


The Sum of Our Parts

by JessieBlackwood



Category: Doctor Who, Native movie, Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: BAMF Greg Lestrade, Baskerville Research Facility, Gen, Jack Harkness being a bit of a prat, M/M, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft is Torchwood as well, Mycroft is honorable, Native Movie - Freeform, When the right people can make things right, You decide which Doctor it is but I think it's Eleven, fluff if you squint, happy endings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-03-27 05:38:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessieBlackwood/pseuds/JessieBlackwood
Summary: Inspired by Rupert Grave’s performance in Native, this happens post Eva and Cane arriving on Earth…They’re aliens, they’re not immune to anything on this world, and when Cane falls ill, UNIT, Torchwood and Mycroft Holmes get wind of their existence. Because I have my reasons why I think Mycroft wouldn’t be a horrible person with regard to alien rights. If he has a problem he has Gregory as his conscience, but he does have the safety of Queen and Country to think of, and hard decisions to make. Oh, and in my AU, everybody in Torchwood is alive…





	1. Pieces of the Puzzle

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is VERY spoilery for the new movie with Rupert Graves, Native, so if you’ve not seen it, and intend to, please be warned. You may need to in order to understand this too. I do make references to what happens in the movie, so no complaints in the comments, please.

“Jack?” Toshiko was studying her PC screen and tapping keys frantically.

“Yeah? What’s up?” Jack Harkness took the stairs down from his office in their not-so-secret base two at a time.

“Something’s flagged up at a hospital in Barking…” She looked up as Owen came up from the medical bay.

“What’s come up?” He asked. “Details?”

“MRI scan on a patient has shown up some strange results…”

“Such as?”

“Heart on the right side of the body.”

“Happens occasionally,” Owen said. “Nothing really unusual.” 

“Physiological differences all over though. Here, you look.” Owen and Jack peered over her shoulder. 

“That’s definitely not human,” Owen agreed, pointing to a couple of extra organs that should not be there. “What the hell do those even do? One looks like a variation on the liver…”

“Ties in with that anomalous atmospheric reading we picked up a few weeks ago around the same area,” Tosh observed. 

“That’s worth checking out,” Jack said. “Ianto, Owen, we’re goin’ on a road trip!”

“Where to, sir?” Ianto was hefting two grab bags as he headed toward the cog door.

“Barking…”

“As in ‘mad’, sir?” 

“Quite possibly, Ianto, quite possibly.” 

00000000000000

“Sir?”

“Yes, Anthea?”

“Message from UNIT, sir. Kate Lethbridge Stewart priority line one, sir.”

“Thank you, Anthea.” Mycroft picked up the phone and pressed for line one. The probability of Kate's request being urgent was high. “Good afternoon, Doctor. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Good afternoon, Mr Holmes. There’s a report of an unusual subject currently quarantined at Barking Hospital. IC1 male, appearance is mid-fifties, looks human, but his MRI is…very unexpected.” Mycroft listened with mounting concern to Kate's list of anomalous findings. “Currently suffering acute meningococcal infection,” she finished.

“Expected to survive?” Mycroft asked. 

“Antibiotics seem to be working but apparently he’s not vaccinated against any known disease. He's accompanied by a younger woman who seems to match a cctv image of someone the police want to talk to concerning an attack on a woman in Barking recently. Neither subject seems to speak any known language. I've asked that the police don't interfere yet, until we've had a chance to talk to them both. They're currently keeping an eye on all exits in case she tries to run. I have three of our men currently in the building with a remit to observe, undercover, and report back to me. I guessed you may want to decide on the appropriate course of action to take?”

“Thank you, Kate. Have you been able to ascertain where they arrived from?”

“We've had no reports of any ships entering the atmosphere, so unless their stealth is better than UNIT can track, we have no point of origin. We tried tracking their movements on cctv, but it's been next to impossible. We tracked the woman back from the cctv where the incident occurred but we lost her as she approached the river.”

“Thank you, Kate. I assume that you will make yourself available?” 

“Certainly, Mr Holmes.” 

“Expect my call, Doctor. Thank you.” Mycroft put the phone down and unlocked a drawer in his desk. He reached in and pressed a hidden switch. A panel flipped up to his left, and he reached into the box beneath, taking out a phone that he stashed in a waistcoat pocket. Then, and only then, did he move to get his crombie overcoat from the back of his door, pulling it on as he strode into the outside office. “Anthea, I need a car ready to go immediately. I have to get to Barking Hospital. Please get DCI Lestrade for me as your immediate priority. Have him meet me outside NSY in five minutes. Failing that, text me his location and tell him we will rendezvous with him. I require Baskerville to be alerted that we may require their facilities urgently. Also, I will need RAF Northolt to put a helicopter on standby. If I text you from the hospital, I will need you to instruct them to dispatch their flight to Barking Hospital with all urgency.”

“Certainly, sir. Do you need me with you?”

“No, Anthea. I will need you to take a car to the palace, however. I need you to present yourself to Her Majesty, apologise that I cannot be there myself, and give her this message, word for word, please. Threat level Critical, suggest immediate implementation Torchwood Protocol, Overwatch Five, Tower Ravens, no later than...” he checked his watch, “...3 pm today.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, Anthea?”

“Good luck, sir.”

“Thank you. You too. I think we may need it before the day is out.”

00000000000000

Eva was terrified. Cane was seriously ill and she was alone in a world that did not understand them and could not be understood. The medics who had taken him into their care were understanding and kind but she was powerless to do more than sit in a waiting room, refusing to go anywhere. Cane was being kept in isolation, behind translucent curtains, away from anybody and anything. She wasn’t allowed close. 

She knew she should run, leave him. They had tried to make their way for two weeks, hiding from people, finding shelter where they could, finally breaking into a house that looked deserted, taking food and acting like thieves in the night. Eva hated it. The fact remained that she had killed someone, and neither could imagine a world where that was considered right.

She should run, hide out until Cane was well again, _but when would that be? Would he live?_ He was dangerously ill, they were not immune to this planet’s diseases, it was not something they should have been subjected to…She had finally dragged him into a place with bright lights and people in uniform, with a smell that unusually had reminded her of the sterile medical centres on Sawl, their homeworld. Cane had been taken off her hands as people rushed to help, but she had spoken to them knowing nobody would understand. She had been left adrift, forgotten and terrified, until a nurse had come for her and lead her up to a ward and sat her down to wait. They had given her a strange brown drink whose warmth was welcome, but tasted bitter, they had given her some slightly crisper brown stuff with a greasy coating— _was everything they ate brown_?—and they tried everything to communicate with her, obviously asking questions, probably about Cane, but she replied in her own language, and nobody understood. 

This would kill them, she thought. Cane would die here and leave her. She was already cut off, alone in her own head, and the shock of it had not worn off yet. Now she would die too. If Cane died, she would not survive alone. 

000000000000000

The Torchwood SUV screeched to a halt showily, seconds before a familiar black car that ghosted up to the pavement rather more sedately and stopped in a reserved space. Jack jumped out, closely followed by the other members of his team, and faced off a rather irritated Mycroft Holmes. 

“Well, well, looky here…” Jack grinned wolfishly and Owen adopted his trademark glower. Ianto decided discretion was the better part of valour and opted to stay in the background.

“Mr Harkness. Fancy finding you here? I gather you must be interested in the same thing I am.”

“Yeah? Well, let’s see. Torchwood is here to deal with alien threats, what are you here for? Afternoon tea? Your eyesight playing up? Or is that vast intellect of yours giving you headaches?”

“Tut, tut. Let’s dispense with the pleasantries, shall we? I had a message from Kate Stewart.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes, I did. The people we are here to see need immediate assessment…”

“Yeah? Well, we all know what kind of _assessment_ you offer…”

“If they do not pose a threat, we will accommodate them.”

“Sure…” Jack was stalled by another person alighting from the car, someone he was not familiar with. “Well, hello. And who is this?”

“Gregory,” Mycroft said, turning slightly as the silver haired man moved round the car to stand protectively beside the government official. 

The man eyed Jack up in a very unimpressed manner and said, "Everything okay, Mycroft? Is this tosser causing a problem?”

“Jack Harkness, Gregory Lestrade. Captain Harkness is the Head of Torchwood 3. Jack, this is DCI Lestrade of the London Metropolitan Police, Homicide and Serious Crimes.”

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” Nobody missed Ianto’s eye roll. 

“So, who are they, Mycroft? What’s Torchwood?” Greg enquired.

“A secret organisation, at least, if you live outside Cardiff,” Mycroft supplied, exasperated. “They deal with aliens.”

“What, as in illegal immigrants?”

“Bloody Hell, Mycroft, he doesn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“The aliens we deal with are not from Earth, Mr Detective Inspector.”

“Aliens as in little green men then? And that’s Detective _Chief_ Inspector to you, lad.” 

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Believe me, when you know someone like Sherlock Holmes, nothing surprises you. So Mycroft, where is this girl you wanted me to see?”

“Come along, Gregory. If Mr Harkness wants to tag along, then I suppose I can’t stop him.”

00000000000000

The quarantine area was out of bounds to ordinary mortals but Mycroft Holmes breezed in with a clearance most people would wet their pants over. Harkness followed in his wake, and Greg just tried to keep up, closely followed by the doctor and the... _assistant,_ Greg wondered? The young man who had remained in the background had the same sartorial sense as Mycroft, wearing a dark pinstripe and matching waistcoat, dark red shirt and dark blue tie. For all Greg knew he could be the actual brains behind the outfit, letting the others take the lead. However, Mycroft seemed to know Harkness of old, and no love was lost there. 

When they arrived Mycroft immediately consulted with the doctors concerning their patient, and they were all allowed no nearer than the corridor window of the private room he was being isolated in. “Bloody Hell!” Mycroft and Jack both jumped at the incredulous exclamation from Lestrade as he stood looking into the room while they were talking to the doctor.

“What?”

“He could be my twin,” Greg said, disbelievingly. Mycroft immediately moved to take a look.

“There is a remarkable likeness, I will grant you,” he said. He didn’t seem surprised. 

“This is mental,” Greg uttered. “And this guy is not from this planet? You seriously expect me to believe that?”

“Look at his scans,” Jack suggested. “Owen?”

“Yeah, look here, you can see this guy has his heart on the opposite side of his body, not unusual in itself but when accompanied with extra organs…”

“How do you know they’re not tumours or something?” Greg asked. 

Owen raised an eyebrow. “They’re functioning somehow, they have a purpose. Tumours that we know about look nothing like this. Plus he has bruising from what could have been a ligature round his neck, and this odd scar at the back, around the nape, which unless I miss my guess had something under it until recently. There’s an odd void space, tiny but visible on the MRI, which could have contained something. Whatever it was has gone, and by the looks of things was cut out. The doctors swear they haven’t done anything to him, which leaves either the girl or self harm.” 

“So where’s the girl?” 

000000000000000

Eva was roused from an exhausted doze by several people arriving in the room where she was sitting, and she realised she was backed into a corner before she could move. She shot to her feet, wary, eyes huge and scared. 

“Hi there,” Jack began. The words meant nothing, just an unintelligible mutter, possibly a greeting. Eva backed away. The man who walked in behind him was tall, well dressed, if strangely, and looked to be in authority. People never dressed like that unless they wanted to project power. Those in power at home had that same air. What really surprised her was the third man, the one who followed the well-dressed one. She couldn’t help the word that escaped her lips. 

“Cane?” She knew it wasn’t him even as she uttered it. _He is...subtly different, but so alike._

“Is that his name?” The man said something that sounded like a question. 

“Ingmari n'quila…” she said, knowing he wouldn't understand but unable to keep silent. _He is my friend._ Eva knew _quila_ could also mean _companion. They were not to know that though,_ she thought.

“It’s okay,” the man said. He tapped his chest. “Greg,” he said. “Greg.” He pointed to her, eyebrows raised. _Is he asking my name?_ Greg was unusual for a name, and meant nothing she could think of. 

“Eva,” she said, and tapped her own chest. “Eva.”

“Don't get too pally,” Jack warned. 

“Shut it, you. I've done more in a minute than you have, so take your advice elsewhere.”

Annoyingly for Jack, Mycroft smirked. “She doesn’t look like a murderer,” Mycroft said. He was staring at her, assessing. 

“And what does a murderer look like?” Greg said, world weary and exasperated. “Just like everybody else. I thought you understood that much, Mycroft? Besides, she's not a murderer yet. I took a look at the case on the way over and the woman is still alive. Hospitalised but expected to live. Punctured lung, so it's not pretty, but this one isn't a murderer yet.”

Mycroft sighed. “Gregory, I merely meant that this woman is terrified, and I would postulate that if she is the one who attacked that woman…” 

“Which certainly looks that way from the cctv.”

“...then it was probably not intended to murder.”

“Hey, this isn’t getting us anywhere,” Jack complained. “These people need to be placed in secure facilities. They are not our friends...”

“I have put plans into motion,” Mycroft said, casually.

“Bet you have. What you going to do, spirit them off to Baskerville, where you can let your pet scientists loose on them?” 

“Baskerville has the most secure medical facilities in the country. We can monitor our _friends_ and make sure they receive the best of care.”

Jack snorted. “Like hell you will,” he snarled. “If either you or UNIT get ahold of them, then they’ll disappear. At least we take care of our guests.”

“Stuff and nonsense. Torchwood opposes alien threats. You would want to know where they come from, and you would stop at nothing to find out, and then eliminate the threat. Possibly retcon everyone who came into contact with them, including us, if you thought you could get away with it.” 

“Damn you, you slimeball, you know what will happen if UNIT get their sticky paws onto them. There’ll be autopsies before you know it…”

“Hang on!” Greg barked, hard and commanding. “Enough, the both of you. You’re supposed to be in charge here. Act like it. You,” he said, stabbing a finger at Jack, “just said they were not our friends, so decide where your loyalties lie, Sunshine. I don’t know you, and I trust Mycroft, so pipe down!”

“Hey!” Jack complained. Mycroft just gave Greg a pointed look. 

“That’s enough of that. Now tell me, Mycroft, exactly what will happen to these people? I took it you wanted me to deal with the criminal aspect of all this, but why do you want me here? You can make this go away with a snap of your fingers. You don’t need me.”

“I needed someone in authority in case we ran into bureaucracy, Gregory.”

“Well, fine, but now there’s a territorial gang war going on here and I don’t know what to make of it.” 

“You don’t need to worry, we can retcon him too,” Jack suggested to be met with a frosty glare from Holmes.

“Dare to do that, and I will shut you down,” he growled, emphasising each word.

“Oo, have I touched a sore spot?”

From her corner, Eva began to panic. She couldn’t sense these strangers at all, nothing, no motive, no intent. She was trapped in her head...unable to find guidance. Without her twin... _Without Seth, where are you, brother?_ She was spiralling into chaos. How did these people manage without a connection? 

“Stop it, you two, can’t you see you’re just scaring her?” Greg sighed in exasperation, and smiled at the girl in a comforting manner. She was beginning to hyperventilate, anxiety ripping through her. As he watched, she collapsed into a chair. Greg stepped toward her slowly, lowering his voice, talking soothingly and carefully. “Eva, it’s alright, I won’t let anyone harm you. Eva, Eva, easy there, love. Come on now, take it steady…” He kept up the soothing noises and maintained eye contact with her, edging closer, until he was within touching distance, but he didn’t attempt to touch, but went into a crouch in front of her. 

Eva looked at the one called Greg, the concern in his eyes, unfeigned, open. If she had been able to, she would have been able to read this one easily, like an open book. Like she had been able to with Cane. Now lost. With a sob, she buried her face in her hands. She felt him sit on the seat next to her. His hand settled gently between her shoulders and he began to rub soothing circles on her back, making himself a shield between her and the others. Gradually the gentle touch soothed and grounded. _It must be what they do,_ she thought, through the receding panic. She had observed people touching, sitting close, making eye contact, speaking to each other. _This is how they connect_. For Eva the word battle had been traumatic, wondering what they were saying. _Deciding what to do with me?_ Knowing she had no idea, and knowing she had no ability to read them anymore, she had felt the uncontrollable descent into fear and madness. However, the one who resembled Cane had kind eyes, and a reassuring smile. He kept his touch light and careful, not restricting. She decided she liked him. She couldn’t leave Cane, but if these people knew she wasn’t from this planet, she imagined they wouldn’t let her live. Instinctively, she knew this one would not let them kill her. She was sick of being tired, hungry, and scared, but she knew that their actions had the correct ones. She had done the right thing, eventually, and Cane had acted properly from the first. 

“Gregory, can you get her to talk?” Mycroft asked softly.

“Talk, why?”

“If I can hear her, I can possibly communicate, learn her language. If it resembles anything on this earth, then I have a better chance but...with time…”

“Mycroft, what are you planning to do with them?”

“I need to know why they’re here, of course. If this is a scouting party for an invasion, then we need to know. Earth is a level five planet protected by article 57 of the Shadow Proclamation. I have reason to believe she comes from a level eight or nine.”

“Which is?”

“A civilisation that has developed space travel.”

“Okay.” Eva was looking trapped. Greg stepped a bit closer putting himself between Eva and the others. 

“Has she been vaccinated yet?” Owen asked.

“Vaccinated?”

“Yeah. They’re aliens. Neither of them have the antibodies to protect them against our germs. She’s vulnerable, and we have no idea what germs they’re carrying either. Runs both ways.”

“So we need to get them into secure medical isolation, now,” Mycroft said. “We can run tests to find out. I am having a helicopter arrive to transport them, and us, within the hour.”

“Aw no, you cannot do this, Holmes,” Jack protested. “They’re at risk…”

“And we are at risk from them. Look, _Captain,_ my remit goes far beyond protecting Queen and Country, you know that. Our Queen inherited the mantle of Torchwood through the paternal line from her great great grandmother, Victoria herself, and Elizabeth is well aware of her responsibilities. I am tasked with overall control of UNIT, and Torchwood as well. Effectively I am your Commander in Chief, as you well know, although you never act like it.” Greg was now looking at him strangely, _and was that awe?_ Mycroft fixed him with a look. 

“Myc, what are you going to do?” Greg asked quietly, insistently.

“Transport them to Baskerville, and have my scientists study them. Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” he muttered, seeing Greg’s expression. “This is not Roswell. Nor is it a bad science fiction B movie. Blood tests and scans, a full work-up of their state of health and making some effort to communicate. The most my people may request is a few biopsies, tissue samples, as much for their safety as ours. We need to know if there is a major threat hanging over our heads but nobody is about to dissect anyone to find out. Besides, if it is of any comfort, they are no use to us dead. We need to be able to talk to them.”

“Mr Holmes,” Jack interrupted. “We have a doctor here with much more experience of alien life forms that anybody else on the planet, Kate Lethbridge-Stewart included. We have the ability to isolate and quarantine people…”

“Yes, I’ve seen your facility. All the comforts of home.” 

“Hey, it’s not that bad.”

“Bad? Your facilities make Guantanamo Bay look like a five star hotel!”

“Oi!” Greg snapped. “I told you before. You’re professionals. Try to act like it. You’re scaring her, and unless you want a whole heap of trouble getting her to cooperate, pipe down, the pair of you. She’s already nearly thrown a fit, now settle down.”

“She doesn’t have to cooperate, we can sedate her,” Owen said. “Besides, we should check her neck for a scar too.” 

“Okay, doctor-with-more-experience-of-aliens-than-anybody-else-on-the-planet, if she isn’t human how the hell do you know what to sedate her with?” Greg asked. “Our sedatives and painkillers might not do for them what they do for us, and we have to be careful. You touch her the wrong way and she’ll freak. We can look when we’re secure in Baskerville.” 

“Cane…?” the girl asked, little more than a desperate whisper. Greg turned and smiled, seeing desperation there. “Come here,” he said, reaching out and curling his fingers in a beckoning gesture. She looked at the hand, then up at him. He took a step closer, and risked reaching out to touch her fingers. 

She allowed him to take her small hand in his and without a word, he patted her hand and lead her out of the room, past the men in power, which obviously meant he was not without power himself. He had obviously admonished the other two. She didn't need to be able to understand the words to interpret the tone of voice. The male calling himself Greg took her down the corridor and they looked through the glass together. She placed both of her small hands against the flat surface and rested her forehead against it, looking at Cane with helpless despair. She was no longer connected, she could feel nothing of him…

Sensing her helplessness, Greg slid an arm around the slight shoulders and held her gently. He felt her tense, and then relax a little. 

“If you wish, I am prepared to make a compromise.” Mycroft said to Jack, all while watching the policeman attempt to comfort the young woman. 

“Compromise? You?” Jack scoffed.

“Yes, in this case. You and your doctor can have access, partial access, to Baskerville until we decide what is happening to these two. Make sure we are treating them well. Not doing anything untoward. How would that be?”

“And exactly what is going to be happening to them?”

“Doubtless we shall attempt to integrate them into society, depending on how well they can assimilate the language, and agree to the terms.”

“And if they don’t agree?” Jack asked. “Lock ‘em up in a UNIT secure facility and throw away the key?”

“Please credit me with a little more integrity than that?” Mycroft murmured.

“Okay, guys, why don’t we start arranging for transfer instead of bickering between ourselves, hm?” Greg suggested, his arm still around Eva. “First question, is he going to survive the journey?” 

“That's a chance we shall have to take,” Mycroft replied. “Speed is of the essence.”

Jack grinned. “I like him, Mycroft. Where d’ya find him? He’s very… _bossy_.”

“Yes, he can be. Comes with the territory. Gregory has been a valuable colleague for a number of years. Do not underestimate him, or what he means to me…”

“ _Valuable colleague_ , hm? Sure.”


	2. Fitting the Pieces Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrival at Baskerville.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again pretty spoilery for Native. Here you go.

“Are you able to accompany us, Gregory? Eva seems to trust you.”

“I can make myself available, yes. Where we going?”

“Baskerville, I’m afraid. It might entail a few days stay.”

“Think I can manage that. Same arrangement as usual? You square it with the Chief Super and I’ll be as available as you wish. You'll have to get Anthea to break into my flat again.”

“Already done. She was onto your boss the moment I sent her a text from the hospital. She will follow with your suitcase in a car. She will be arriving later tonight I suspect.”

“Good girl. Worth her weight in gold that one.”

 

Less than an hour later, a helicopter sat idling on the pad on the hospital roof, and Greg was as always struck by the ease with which Mycroft could call on such amenities. Snap your fingers and conjure up an RAF helicopter anytime you need it. Owen Harper would be coming with them, while Jack and Ianto would be returning with the SUV to Cardiff. Owen would be able to communicate with them and keep them updated. Eva was reluctant but when she saw they had prepped Cane for transportation she went willingly enough.

She just about clung to Greg as the copter lifted off and into the early evening sky. Mycroft sitting primly across from them, and behind lay Cane, stretchered and appropriately cocooned in protective gear, watched over by Owen. Ianto and Jack would wipe the hospital’s systems of all records, scans and anything else, before they left, including retconning anybody they considered might remember too much. Jack had complained about being the one left to clear up the shit again, but Mycroft had told him that he did a sterling job and should be proud of it. That shut the Captain up for a while, not least because Mycroft had sounded genuine. Ianto knew better, of course. Never trust a man who wore a suit like that, _and I should know,_ he thought.

It took less time than Greg had expected to get to Baskerville. After the last time, he hadn’t been eager to return, but needs must, he supposed. Beside him, Eva was tense, and frankly he pitied her. Wherever she was from, she wasn’t anywhere near home. It was hard to talk while they were flying, they had to wear ear defenders, despite being keyed in to the intercom system, so he simply kept hold of her hand. By the way she was gripping back, he was given to understand she needed the support. 

Greg wondered at the way events were unfolding around him, part of him still wondering if it was a wind up, but he was a pragmatic man, and a practical one, and he had seen the scan results, heard the doctor walk them through the findings. It seemed impossible, but what was Sherlock always saying? _I’m not always saying it, Lestrade, I never knew I was so quotable..._ He couldn’t help hearing Sherlock’s voice in his head. _When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth._ Well this was pretty fucked up, but even he had never heard Eva’s language before and he had a pretty good handle on recognising languages, even if he got a few mixed up. The way she was dressed was not...out of the ordinary, but the fabric was hi-tech, and therefore she did not come from a backward country. She had no ID, no money, nothing. Why would someone, as advanced as Eva undoubtedly was, be there with absolutely no resources? _Eva is...vulnerable,_ and Greg was not about to let even Mycroft do anything suspect without a bloody good reason. If she was a killer, and Greg didn’t trust that the grainy cctv image wasn’t her, she would receive a fair judgement, from him, at least. He had a feeling she had been desperate for some reason, but he didn’t yet know why. Didn’t excuse it, but it would explain it. Unless she was a fucking good actress, and he had met some of those in his time too, she was scared, wary and desperate. And desperate people sometimes did desperately stupid stuff and if he could reduce that in her, he would attempt to do so, for all their sakes. Mycroft was observing them, and left him to it, so it seemed as though the man knew what Greg was doing and was happy to let him. 

They set down away from the facility, in darkness by the time they arrived, the landing point lit with a circle of lights in the middle of what looked like a parade ground. They were picked up by a military ambulance and taken into the center proper with a military escort. Once inside, everybody was respectful of Mycroft, and saluted him as he went past. He nodded acknowledgement as he went, issuing orders, making sure people knew what they were about. They were met by the station commander, Major Barrymore, who treated Mycroft like visiting royalty. 

Cane was transported into a ready and waiting isolation suite, and Owen went in with him, checking and rechecking the facilities, the equipment, the results of his earlier scans and blood tests. Greg and Eva followed, but Greg felt Eva begin to panic again, and he urgently waved away any attempt to separate them as doctors came to meet them. Mycroft intervened, So Greg and Eva ended up in a waiting room again, alone, while Mycroft excused himself to speak to the station commander in private. 

For something to do, Greg showed Eva his warrant card, and pointed to his picture, and his name. “Greg,” he reiterated. 

“Greg” she said, with a tired attempt at a smile. It was hesitant, as though she didn’t want to give him ideas, but it was a start.

He reached out and grasped her wrist gently, although he could feel her tension, she didn’t exactly pull away. He moved his hand around hers and said “Hand.” She looked down at their hands and frowned. He held his hand up. “Hand,” he repeated. Circled it with the index finger of his other hand and repeated the word again. He waggled his fingers. “Fingers,” he said. Pointed to one of them and said “Finger” and to the next and the next, repeating the word as he went. 

“Finga,” she attempted. 

Greg grinned and nodded. He indicated himself, moving his hand in a circle around him. “Man,” he said. He pointed to her. “Woman,” he said. The room was like a fishbowl, with a big window, and he looked out, pointing at people passing, saying “man” or “woman”. He pointed to himself again. 

“Greg,” she said. “Man?”

“I have no idea if you know what I’m saying, but yes.” 

“Eva, woman?”

“Yes,” Greg nodded and then realized she might not know the gesture. After all he had heard it was reversed in some countries. He smiled encouragingly. 

“Indri,” she said. “Eva n’indri.”

“Nindri?”

“Indri,” she said. She pointed to him, and to several of the males in the area. “Indra. Cane n’indra, Greg n’indra.” 

The N seemed to be a prefix, like ‘a’ or ‘is’ then. “Greg nindra.”

“N’indra,” she repeated. There was a nuance there, Greg heard it as she emphasised it. Mycroft would be better at this, he thought. This could take ages. He needed a picture book. He brought out his phone and googled a kids’ alphabet, which was where Mycroft found them, an hour later, Greg showing her images of things and saying their name. He looked up and smiled.

“Eva, this is Mycroft. Mycroft,” he pointed. 

“My-croff,” she said. 

“Mycrof-T,” he emphasised the ‘t’.

“My-croft,” she said softly. 

“Teaching our invaders our language, Gregory. Very accomodating of you,” Mycroft said dryly.

“I am attempting communication, _Mr Holmes_ ,” Greg said, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice. 

“So I see. I came to tell you they have prepared our quarters, and hers. Don’t worry, she is along the corridor from us. At some point they will need to vaccinate her too, and to examine her thoroughly. She should be in quarantine. We do not know yet what illnesses she might be a carrier for, and you have probably managed to contaminate yourself in the process.”

“Then you can have them dissect me for alien diseases, can’t you?” Greg was irritated, _and he will be obstructive if not handled correctly,_ Mycroft’s mind supplied. _He has already developed a bond with the woman._ “Look, we’re in a research facility, Mycroft. If they cannot handle anything these two have, then who can? Right now, they’re here, and they’re our responsibility, and we need communication to enable us to ascertain the threat level. I am not stupid, as I keep telling your bloody brother. Why bring me along if you consider me a liability?”

“No, Inspector, you are not stupid, but maybe you are not fully aware of what this situation means.”

“If they’re aliens, they may be scouts,” Greg said seriously. “I understand that much. If they’re aliens, then this is first contact, and it is a serious matter. How they perceive us is as important as how we perceive them, wouldn’t you say? Or are you of the mindset that would rather eradicate instead of befriend?”

“I am...not of that mindset, no, but it might surprise you to learn this is not first contact.”

“Eh?” Greg was surprised. “It isn’t?”

“No, it definitely isn’t. We are not alone, Gregory, but we are protected, believe it or not. There is an...intergalactic police force, as it were. However, at no time can we rest on our laurels. Vigilance is our watchword, and that is what Torchwood and UNIT are for. I am in overall command of that, given by Her Majesty.”

“Bloody Hell,” Greg said. 

“Now, let us settle our guest, and find her some clothing more suitable to our climate. My people want to examine her clothes as well, to determine the nature of the fibers.”

“Industrial espionage, hm? Well, you might also want to locate their ship.”

“Ship?” Mycroft frowned, perplexed. 

Greg sighed, radiating patience. “Mycroft, how else did they get here? Transporter beam?”

“How do we know?” Mycroft replied in all seriousness. “Their ship might still be in orbit.”

“Well, I would look in the Thames, near Barking, where we found them. She recognised the map of London, and picked out the area where we just came from, and she pointed to the kid’s picture of a spaceship on google, and nodded. I think she’s learned what the gesture for yes is, and I think she’d indicating that whatever they arrived in is in the river around here.” He found the map on his phone and pointed.

“Gregory…”

“Go call whoever you need to call, but take care with it. She’s worried for some reason.”

“Very well. I shall authorise it’s retrieval with extreme caution.” 

“Good idea. I would suggest that you tell them not to breach the hull or try accessing the airlock until we know more.”

“And since when did you become an authority on alien spaceships?” 

“Independence Day and Babylon 5, Mycroft. Not to mention Star Trek, Star Wars and the Last Starfighter. Forbidden Planet too. Oo, and don't forget Lost in Space…”

“Danger, Greg Lestrade,” Mycroft murmured robotically, and walked off down the corridor. Greg shook his head in exasperation as he watched him go. He looked back at Eva and smiled encouragingly.

“Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

0000000000000000

Greg was woken up at 6am to a commotion down his corridor, shrill screaming reaching his ears, setting him on high alert and making his teeth ache. He was out of bed and running before he had even grabbed a robe, forgetting his slippers in the process. The noise was coming from Eva's room. Clad only in loose jogging bottoms and a sleeveless T, he skidded to a halt finding the door blocked with too many people. 

“Out of the way!” he barked, shouldering his way in. The room was a shambles. A bedpan narrowly missed his head and clanged off the wall, thankfully sans any noxious contents. A door slammed. By the time he recovered from dodging the missile, of Eva there was no sign. “What the Holy Fuck is going on here?” he roared. Several medical personnel were present, as was a young army officer. The medical personnel jumped at the shout, the army officer did not.

“We don't answer to you, sir,” he snapped. “I suggest you leave, now. The subject in this room requires medical treatment and is not being cooperative…”

“Of course she isn't, you moron. She's terrified. Now leave this to me…” 

“Sir, I will have security remove you if you do not leave now…” 

“You will do no such thing, Corporal Lyons,” a cool voice said from the doorway. Mycroft Holmes was standing there, in a navy silk dressing gown, striped cotton pajamas and slippers. He still managed to look forbidding. “DCI Lestrade is my colleague on this mission and to all intents and purposes, he has my full authority. You will do as he says, at all times, is that perfectly clear? With particular reference to the subject in this room. Now, without further ado, please arrange a security pass for him, all areas.”

The young man visibly swallowed. “ _All_ areas, Sir?” 

“I will not repeat myself, Corporal.” 

The young man came smartly to attention. “Yes, sir. Apologies, DCI Lestrade.” 

“Accepted, Corporal. You were only doing your job.”

“Thank you, sir. Of course, I'll arrange an all areas pass as soon as I can, sir. Although, Major Barrymore will have to be informed.” 

“If the Major has a problem, tell him to take the matter up with me personally.”

“Yes, sir, of course, sir.” The young man saluted and shouldered his way out past the medical personnel, obviously passing along Mycroft's injunction to them as he went, judging by the curious looks Greg was now getting. 

“You,” he said to the foremost white-coated person in the doorway, tall lean young man with floppy hair and glasses. 

“Me?” 

“Yes, you. What on earth were you trying to do to her?” 

“Vaccinations, sir. She was scheduled to have them today. Nobody informed us that there may be a...problem.”

Greg sighed. “You’re in a high security research facility and your comms are shite,” he observed. “Okay then, just give us a minute… _alone,_ ” he suggested. “I want one nurse, a nurse mind, and preferably female, standing by with those vaccinations, okay?” He shut the door on himself and Mycroft, then a thought occurred and he opened it again. “Is this too hi-tech or can you use one of those spray gun things?” Greg frowned, wondering if he sounded daft, but he was sure he'd read it somewhere outside of seeing it in Star Trek. “You know, like a hypo-spray?”

“We can do that, sir, yes. Give me five minutes,” a small practical-looking little woman said and hurried off. Greg shut the door again.

“Do you want me to leave as well, Gregory?” 

“No, she knows you. Just give me a few.” Greg stepped to the toilet door. “Eva?” he asked. “Eva, it's me, Greg. Greg, and Mycroft too. It's okay, love. You can come out now.” Greg paused, trying the door carefully. He pressed his ear to the door fearfully, but was somewhat reassured to hear quiet sobbing. At least she was still with them. “Eva, love, come on, open the door.” Behind him, Mycroft was quietly putting the room back to rights, taking utmost care not to make a noise. “Eva!” he sharpened his tone. “Come on now, you are safe.” Greg knew he was talking rubbish as far as she was concerned but he hoped she would pick up on his tone. She seemed to have done before. 

“Gregory,” Mycroft began quietly but was interrupted by the door clicking open. He immediately closed his mouth. 

“Eva?” Greg asked. The door opened a little wider and a pair of fearful tear-streaked eyes found his, before she launched herself at him, nearly knocking him over. He enfolded her in his arms and crooned nonsense at her, hushing and soothing. Eventually she calmed, and Greg turned to Mycroft. She was wearing nothing but a thin nightgown, and even though the room was warm, it was still no protection. “Pass me her dressing gown?” Mycroft handed over a rather drab fleece robe but Greg cocooned her in its softness and swept her into his arms, carrying her the short distance to the bed. “Rest,” he instructed, once he’d put her down and pulled the duvet up to her chin. He mimed sleep, closing his eyes and laying a hand by his head, then pointing to her. “You, rest.” 

She looked a little unsure, but settled, relaxing. “Semno wen,” she said, “Mia?” 

She pointed to him, pointed to the door, the shook her head. She grasped his hand and pulled him closer, hanging on.

“I think that is clear in anyone's language. She doesn't want you to go,” Mycroft said. Greg shrugged and sat on the end if the bed. “Not going anywhere,” he reassured. 

“I'll go get us some coffee then, shall I?” Mycroft suggested, hiding an amused smile. 

“Better make tea for this one. Put enough sugar in it.”

“Hot sweet tea, Gregory? A panacea for all ills, even for people not of this world.”

“Well, you make tea that’s out of this world, Myc, so it should work.” Greg stood, ignoring Mycroft’s chuckle, trying to reassure Eva that he wasn't leaving. “Mycroft, ask that nurse to come in, would you? Need a word.” 

“And what did your last slave die of?” Mycroft asked, sighing in a put-upon way. “Very well.”

Presently the practical nurse came back, bearing a rattling tray which she put down on the table across the room. At least the room they had given Eva was comfortable, if a little bland. There was a bed, a table, chairs, a bookcase (sans anything on it bar for a clock), a wardrobe, and a few pictures of the local scenery on the walls. The bed was a double, and not a hospital bed. The ambience was hotel rather than private medical centre. The little woman standing there did not overpower the room either, and she was typical of the profession; pleasant smile, motherly demeanor, no nonsense, but kind. 

Eva immediately stiffened as the nurse came in. The little woman stood there waiting, a reassuring smile on her face. Greg was on his phone again, googling images, and practicing vocabulary with Eva. In return she was teaching him her own words for things. When he heard the door and felt Eva tense, he looked up and smiled. “Nurse…?” 

“Bonnie Fielding, DCI Lestrade. Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you, too, Eva,” she said. Greg immediately liked her.

“Well, Nurse Bonnie, call me Greg.” He looked at Eva. “Eva, Bonnie,” he said, pointing at the nurse. “Bonnie, this is Eva and she doesn't understand us, so we have no way of making her understand that this is for her own good, so…what vaccinations might a man of my age need topping up with?”

She smiled in understanding. “Well, you're a policeman, so you'll have had your Hep-B?” Greg nodded. “Flu jab? Anti-tetanus shot? I know, we've got a new meningitis shot, it's not widely available yet, but it works, and you did come into contact with our patient, sir.” 

“By ‘not widely available’ does that mean experimental?” Greg asked suspiciously.

“No, Greg. You may be in Baskerville, but even we would stop short of offering you something that wasn't sufficiently tested. No, this is what the scientists here are vaccinated with but it's not on offer to the general public.”

“in which case, how could I refuse? I presume you will be giving it to Eva too?”

“Of course. Let me arrange it, Greg. Give me a few minutes.” She disappeared again, during which time, Mycroft returned with their drinks. This time, Eva made a small appreciative sound on tasting the tea. 

Greg googled vaccination and showed her pictures of kids having jabs, trying to make her understand. She frowned, and he mimed being sick, which drew a laugh from Mycroft. Eva smiled faintly, and visibly relaxed, and Greg found a picture of someone throwing up. She made a face. He went back to the vaccination pictures and then to the vomiting and then shook his head. “Eva,” he said, pointing to the vomiting, and then to her again, and back to the vaccinations. He shook his head. _What was it she said? Semno? Was that ‘don't’?_ “Eva semno…” he pointed at the vomiting, then patiently at the vaccination pictures again. 

“Ins yey…” she murmured, tapping her chest, speaking slowly, then pointing to the vaccination pictures, “aracal ti, yey,” she said, pointing to herself again, “Yey, Eva, emno evk?” _If I do this, I… I, Eva, won't be sick?_ She finished by pointing to the vomiting again. 

“Yes?” Greg said, wrinkling his nose. “I think.” Eva nodded, and frowned. Greg got the distinct feeling he was dealing with a very intelligent woman, despite the vulnerability. Anybody would be vulnerable in her position, and terror made people behave stupidly. Underneath it, given a focus, there was a massive curiosity, eagerness to work with them. There was a reserve there though, almost as if she was not used to physical contact and was trying it on for size. 

“Yey, means I.” Mycroft was listening, cataloguing. 

“Semno is don't, do not, I think. There’s a contraction prefix as well, an ‘n’ before a word, probably ‘a’ or ‘is’. Greg n’indri. Greg is a man. Eva n’indra. Eva is a woman.”

“Wen is go, or leave. Possibly. If _semno_ is _do not_ , then _emno_ may be _will not_ …” Mycroft sighed. “Too little data to go on. Eva, please talk to me?” He gestured at his mouth, then made his fingers snap together repeatedly, the gesture for chatter. He pointed to her, and made the same gesture. 

Greg looked at her. “Eva,” he said, and pointed to the kid’s alphabet. He pointed to his mouth and then to Mycroft. “Hello, Mycroft, we need to speak to each other, so she knows what we mean.”

“I know, Greg, but will she understand?” Mycroft said. He sighed. “Abstract concepts are the hardest and I have not heard anything that resembles any language I have heard before.” 

“Time, Mycroft. We need time.”

“Time is something we probably do not have. Whoever sent these two will be wondering where they are, but even at light speed, it puts them a long way from home. Whoever sent them, eventually they may come looking. I think we need some outside help. If you will excuse me, I think I need to make a call.”

Mycroft took himself off to the most secure transmitting station in the world, that he knew of, a room in the innermost sanctum of the facility. Whereupon he evicted the young officer stationed there, who thankfully went without a word. He removed the phone from his waistcoat pocket and stared at it for a full ten minutes, He hit speed dial before he could stop himself. It rang several times before there was an answer. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, Doctor.”


	3. House Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor arrives...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've named their planet Sul (because I originally misheard what the characters said) but on balance, it's simple, and I have also given their race a name, the Ora'an, just for convenience, as there is no reference to this in the film. Just me being creative...

There was something he needed to do...but his mind was so fogged. It was impossible to dredge up, and it worried him. He fretted over it, it was important, urgent even… He was assailed with images; hazy, unfocused, flashes of very bright light and shadow, dark corridors, unending passages leading nowhere. There was somewhere he needed to get to, right now, but there was a terrible faceless danger… A thudding noise, a deep throbbing vibration, pain and tears, and through it all, the transmission, repeating over and over and over… An overture, or a dirge? 

“Still no response,” Owen said, hazmat gear in place. His voice sounded odd coming through the comms channel. “His mind is working, he’s in REM sleep, dreaming, and yet he’s showing no signs of coming out of it. He won’t respond to stimulus.”

“Is he still contagious?” Mycroft asked behind the glass window. He kept it to himself how surprised he really was concerning the likeness between Gregory and Cane. _Almost twins,_ he thought. Although how likely for that gene pattern to be repeated, even from a race that had grown up half a universe apart? Their physiology was most definitely not the same.

“Probably not,” Owen was saying, and Mycroft had to drag his memory back to what he had just asked. “I’m just taking precautions. Besides, his immune system is a bit compromised right now. I’m protecting him from me as much as anything.”

“So what seems to be wrong with him?”

“Let's see, if I was being a dick, I’d say he’s lost the will to live. But I’m not a dick, I’m a doctor, so I’m going to say, he’s probably exhausted and he’ll come round when he’s ready. We’re monitoring him. He’s breathing on his own, all his vitals are within normal ranges. He’s just… unresponsive.”

“In a coma then?”

“Technically, yeah, if you want to say that, then you’d not be far off the mark, but he’s not deeply under.”

Mycroft sighed. “Not very encouraging, Doctor.”

“Well, excuse me, I cannot do any more. Down to him now.” Owen carefully adjusted the flow of oxygen to the cannula under his patient's nose. “My scanner readings are telling me that we shouldn't expect any long term problems from his illness, either. He's successfully thrown it off, but I want to give him some breathing space with regard to being exposed to any other infections right now.”

“Good news, surely. How can you be sure, though, considering he hasn't regained consciousness yet?” 

“I've got one or two tricks up my sleeve, ” Owen said, a touch smug. Mycroft fixed him with a look. “Bekaran deep tissue scanner. Useful bit of alien tech for once,” he explained. 

“That implies that not all of it is,” Mycroft speculated.

“Well, Ianto once ran up against something that turned him into a woman, but that's another story. Wasn't permanent as you can see. We did once get something through the rift that seemed to do nothing more than change your eye colour. Still not sure how though, but it was a fun little object. Jack and Ianto were sporting rainbow coloured eyes for Pride last year. Pity it never did anything else. I thought it might have been able to rearrange DNA on a specific basis, but Tosh could never figure out how to reset it.”

“We could have our fellows look at it?” 

“Nice try, Holmesy, but I doubt you have anybody better than Tosh, and I very much doubt that Jack would be open to this lot being let loose on alien tech, even if it is only a beauty product. Besides, if our darling Tosh can't figure it, I doubt anyone can.”

“She's good, I take it?” 

“Understatement of the year, mate. Tosh is an IT and engineering genius.” Owen came out of the room and stripped off his gear. “The scanner has also identified the function of his extra organs. One seems to be a variation of the gallbladder, which he doesn't have, and it secretes a fluid that helps the breakdown of food in his gut but it's not created by the liver, like bile is. Looks like a more sophisticated system than ours. Allows for a more varied diet and mineral take up possibly from less nutritious foods, which is quite a good thing to possess. The other looks like a sub-function of his immune system. Which is very strong, by the way. He responded well to our antibiotics, but I think he's from a species with a more robust constitution than ours. His antibody production is much better. Not to say it doesn't respond to a little help, but for all I know, this is a normal viral response for his species. Sleep it off. Clear the system. Liver is slightly bigger too, but not by much. I think his body is used to slightly more gravity as well. Bone density is higher, musculature is stronger, including heart and lungs.”

“It does not seem to cause Eva a problem.” 

“I don't think the difference is significant enough to cause a problem, just to show up a few physiological differences.” 

“That's good, at least. So their atmosphere must be similar.”

“Guess they wouldn't have chosen this planet to colonise if it wasn't within acceptable parameters for their race to survive.”

“True enough.”

“By the way, his bloods are clear of anything potentially harmful. He hasn’t got anything he could pass to us that we haven’t seen some form of before. In layman’s terms, he’s clean. Which is odd in itself. Even apart from the fact that he’s Greg’s alien twin…”

“How can that be possible?”

“No clue. It happens occasionally here though. We can get dopplegangers. People who resemble us closely. Six degrees, as they say. Still unusual though. Gene patterns are not as infinite as DNA but close, and I have no way to explain the different planets aspect.”

“Well, keep me updated. I want to know the second he wakes.”

“Much good it’ll do you, considering you can’t communicate with the other one.”

“The second he wakes, doctor.” Owen huffed, but nodded agreement. 

**000000000000**

Greg was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to show Eva there was nothing to worry about in having vaccinations. He sat while the nurse swabbed his arm, then pressed the jet injector nozzle to his skin and pulled the trigger. There was a hiss, _an actual hiss,_ Greg thought, and it was done. 

“That it?”

“Yes, Greg, that’s it.” He turned to Eva and smiled. Pointed to the injector and then to her. There was a challenge in his eyes. Eva rose to it. She nodded and sat still while the nurse swabbed her arm, then there was a hiss, and Eva winced a little, but peered closely at the results and nodded. “Vinkr,” she said, trilling the ‘r’ a little.

“There’s more I’m afraid.”

“How many today, Bonnie?”

“Two today. The menB was important because of the exposure to her companion. I’ve got the standard six in one today, that covers diptheria, tetanus, whooping cough, polio, hib and hepB. We’ll do the MMR, the pneumococcal vaccine and rotavirus over the next few days, once we know she doesn’t react badly to the first two. And if she’ll let me, I need to take bloods today too.”

“That could be problematic,” Greg said. “We can see.” Bonnie approached Eva for the second vaccination in her other arm. Eva looked at Greg. 

“Ba min?” she said, clearly a surprised question. Frustrated, she held up her fingers, flicked them up, one, two, three, four.

“How many?” Greg held up one finger. “Just this one.” Then he counted off from one to ten. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.” 

“An, twa, tur, gow, dif, sav, fen, een, blay, doff.” 

“One to ten, hm?” He scrabbled his phone and got the notepad up, writing the words down phonetically. “Ann, twa, tur…” he glanced up expectantly. 

“Gow, diff,” she said patiently. “Sav, fen, een.” she waited for him to catch up. “Blay, doff.”

Greg ran through them all once, and smiled as Bonnie readied the blood taking kit.

“Actually, you’d probably best take mine first?” Greg said. “After all, Mycroft is not sure Eva hasn’t exposed me to their own viruses. He did say I should be screened.”

“Good idea.” Bonnie stepped up close and wrapped a tourniquet around his bicep and pulled it tight. “Make a fist for me then, and turn your arm out, yes, that’s right, so I can access your elbow.” Greg was aware of Eva peering at him, watching as Bonnie swabbed the inside of his elbow and pressed to raise a vein. “Here we go then, sharp scratch.” She slid the needle in and the blood welled almost instantly. She loosened the tourniquet and Greg did his best to appear unphased by the procedure, and relaxed as Bonnie replaced the first barrel with a fresh one, connecting it to the needle still inside his arm. She filled four and grinned at him. “That should be enough.” Greg tried to make it look like this was every day for him and grinned back; something not out of the ordinary, nothing to worry about. He looked over at Eva and gestured again. Her chin jutted defiantly for a moment, but then she relented, as if she realised this was standard medical procedure and she wasn’t afraid if it. Greg wondered if she was a scientist at heart. There certainly didn't seem to be much in the way of anything else motivating her curiosity. 

**000000000000**

Relaxing on his bed a little later, having finally persuaded Eva to rest, Greg switched on the radio. He liked the small woman but he really needed some space. He turned it to Classic FM and sat back, closing his eyes. He was tired. That morning had been traumatic to say the least. The strains of Chopin ended and the announcer read a request for something by Beethoven. The Fifth Symphony began, the classic first movement, but Greg was never sure if he liked Beethoven. He knew Mycroft wasn't keen. He let the music play on for a while but was leaning over to switch channels when suddenly, Eva was there, in like a flash, stopping him changing it over, her hand on his. She listened, rapt, as the music filled the room. “Davik! Davik!” she said, rattling off something so fast he couldn’t begin to catch the inflections. “Cane…” 

“This has something to do with Cane?” Greg tugged on his ear. “Cane should _hear_ this?”

“Vinkr,” she said, which was the word she had uttered when things seemed to have gone well with Bonnie. 

“Okay, well, we can get a recording. Let me talk to Mycroft. Mycroft needs to know,” he said again, hoping his meaning got across.

**0000000000000**

“Beethoven’s Fifth?” Mycroft said. “Now that is interesting.” 

“How so?”

“Because it’s the recording sent out with the Voyager probes, into space.”

“You reckon they might have heard it?”

“Quite possibly the single most stupid thing we ever did. Sending out a message in case there were other life forms out there to hear it. Of course there are. Here we are, come get us,” Mycroft said exasperated. “It puts a different light on things. That probe has most probably alerted someone to our presence, and where the transmission came from. They traced it back to its origin.”

“Here?”

“Here.”

“Can we get a copy of the whole piece of music? I think Eva thinks Cane should hear it for some reason.”

“He’s currently unresponsive, and the doctor seems to think he will come out of it in his own time, but they say hearing is still active even during a coma. So, yes, I can find a copy. I can commandeer a laptop and an internet connection with no problem.” 

**00000000000**

They gathered to watch as they played the audiofile to their patient. Cane’s face registered something, his expression changed, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

“I think I’m going to leave the room,” Greg said.

“What, where are you going?” Mycroft said, startled.

“My room, for now, because the poor bloke doesn’t want to be faced with his doppleganger when he comes out of it, does he? If it were me, I know I’d freak out. He’s already in a strange place. He’s going to wonder what hit him, he’ll probably be feeling bloody awful and seeing me might push him right over. Hell, he might even think we've cloned him while he slept. Anything is possible.”

“Very well. I understand your reasoning.”

“Good. Doesn’t really matter if you didn’t, I’m still going. Eva, I am not staying. Here,” he placed her hand in Mycroft’s. She looked at him quizzically but he pointed to his face, and then to Cane and then shrugged. “No good, I cannot make her understand…”

He mimed waking, opening his eyes, then indicated Cane, then indicated his own face, and then Cane again. Eva frowned, then nodded, turning her back a little reluctantly on him. Mycroft felt the fingers tighten slightly in his. 

Their first attempt with the music didn’t seem to work, and Cane stayed stubbornly asleep, but his eyelids did flicker a little. Eva looked disappointed though, but Mycroft wasn’t put off that easily. Owen agreed with him that he would try again later. Maybe play it for longer. Mycroft guided Eva back to her room and then took his leave, checking his watch. _Come on, Doctor,_ he thought. _You have to show sometime soon._ Mycroft decided he had best inform Greg about the person he had invited to join them. It might be good to forewarn the man. 

When he arrived at Greg’s room, Mycroft looked at him a little strangely, as if he had something to say but didn’t know how. 

“What’s up? Was it successful?”

Mycroft took a breath and smiled. “Alas no, but Owen is hopeful. We got some response at least, but he did not wake. I wanted you to know that I have been in touch with someone. Someone whom I believe can help us. He’ll be here...well, sometime soon I hope. I...I am hoping he can return Eva and Cane home for us.”

“Holy Fuck, Mycroft. Who on earth could do that?”

“Nobody on earth, Greg. I did say I needed to bring in some help from outside.”

“How outside are we talking?”

“About as far outside as you can get.” 

“You are talking about someone with a spaceship. How else can they get back?”

“In a manner of speaking. There are...a few things you don’t know about me, Gregory. When I was younger…” Mycroft sighed. “I...went travelling…” 

A strange noise interrupted them, a whooshing wheeze unlike anything Greg had heard before. He jumped to his feet, alarmed. “What the Hell is that? Are we under attack?”

“I believe not,” Mycroft replied with a slight smile, even as the alarms went off and the building shook a little. “I think that this is the person I contacted. It is someone I should very much like you to meet, Gregory. An old friend.”

They stepped out into the corridor. The alarm was louder there, bulkhead lights were flashing and the doors to either end of the corridor were rolling down. 

“Oh, bugger,” Mycroft swore. “The lockdown protocols will be in place.” The two men walked to the doors that lead through to one of the labs, a large space in which there were several experiments on-going. The klaxon alarms were still blaring, warning lights whirling red in the gloom. Suddenly there were soldiers running down the corridor, armed and ready. 

“Enough!” Mycroft ordered, finding their leader to be Corporal Lyons again. “Stand down, Corporal. We are not under attack.”

“But Mr Holmes, the alarms. This is not a drill.”

“No, Corporal, it is not. For God’s sake, deactivate those damned alarms now!” There was a slight pause while Lyons dashed to a security panel on the wall and punched in some numbers. The noise died. Mycroft gave a sigh of relief. “Thank God. Now, Corporal, I commend your response time, but there is no threat. The person who is in there is under my protection and has come in response to my invitation. Stand your men down and await my orders. This instant.”

Corporal Lyons took a deep breath and nodded. “Sir,” he said, and turning to his men, quickly ordered them to stand down. They immediately stood at parade rest lining the corridor. “With respect, sir. Please allow us to observe?”

“Granted, Corporal.” Mycroft agreed.

 _When did my life become this,_ Greg wondered. _This weird other world of extraterrestrials and...secret bases..._ It took a few minutes to reset the locks but when they got the doors open, Greg looked around the room and saw... _a huge blue…_ He began to laugh. “You have got to be kidding. A police box? How in Hell did that get in here?” 

As he spoke, the door of the police box opened and a man’s head popped out, light from inside spilling out behind him. He was wearing a bright red fez, a polka dot bow tie, and had short brown hair above an angular face. “Mycroft Holmes, as I live and breath, how are you? What year is this then?” The head sniffed, and wrinkled it’s nose, then the rest of him emerged. “My guess would be...2018?” 

“You would be correct, Doctor, although yours is not a face I recognise. Allow me to present my friend, Gregory Lestrade. Detective Chief Inspector, New Scotland Yard. Gregory, this is The Doctor.”

“Doctor Who?” Greg asked, clueless.

“Exactly! Oh, I do love it when they say that. I am _the_ Doctor, the _only_ Doctor. Only one you’ll ever need anyway, and it’s a good job I make house calls. Oh my, look at you, Gregory Lestrade. I think knew your Great Grandfather. 1902 I think it was...The name Riddell ring a bell?”

“Sorry, I...never did my family tree. Riddell?” Greg shook his head. “Not a name I’m familiar with, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, don’t be afraid, no harm done. Anyway, nice to meet you, Gregory. So, Mycroft here tells me you have a spot of bother, and you need some help. Aliens targeted Earth again, have they?”

“I am afraid so. We have two of them, and one is quite ill. They have zero immunity to our bacteria…”

“Nasty little buggers, some of those. So, I’m presuming this person is still alive.”

“Recovering. There is a male and a female. The woman is in fine health but we cannot speak to either of them, we do not have their language…” 

“So...you have no idea which world they’re from and you want to find out?”

“Yes, if at all possible. I suspect a level 8 at the very least. They got here by ship.”

“Are they hostile?” 

“They do not appear to be,” Mycroft assured. “In point of fact, Gregory has made some inroads in communicating with the woman, Eva. I believe they both stopped the...invasion, they had been sent to begin.”

“Did they now? Well, communicating shouldn’t be a problem. The TARDIS can help with that. She has a translation circuit,” he explained for Greg’s benefit. “Should work. So where are they? Are they somewhere here? Where is here, exactly?”

“The Baskerville Military Research Base, Dartmoor.”

“Hm. Not much time for military research, usually leads to unsavoury practices…”

“Yes, well, I am in over all control of this operation, and that sort of thing is for science fiction. Not on my watch, as the phrase goes,” Mycroft assured the man.

“Good man, Mycroft. Good to see you learned something during your time with me.”

“Yes, well, I tried, Doctor. Allow me to lead the way. The woman is in her room, the man is in the medical bay, in a secure isolation suite. This way.”

Greg hurried on ahead, suddenly worried what the alarms might have done to Eva’s state of nerves. “Eva, Eva, are you alright?”

“Greg, what happened? Where…?” she stuttered to a halt, frowning. “I can understand you.”

Greg laughed. “I can understand you too...What the F…?”

“Language, Gregory.” Mycroft had come up behind them.

“And I can understand you too,” Eva said to Mycroft. “Who’s this?”

“I’m The Doctor,” The Doctor said pleasantly. “The reason you can understand us is simple. My ship has a translation circuit, extended out to cover the base.” The Doctor had arrived behind them, and was in the process of tugging out a strange device from an inside jacket pocket. The end was glowing green. “The TARDIS has very kindly extended her translation field to allow for effective communication. Now, young lady,” He pointed the device at her and it whined into life. “We have something very serious to discuss…”

**0000000000000**

Jack was frustrated by the lack of progress that Owen was reporting. Neither Greg nor Mycroft had managed to communicate effectively with the woman Eva and Cane was still in a coma. He was pacing the office, and even Ianto’s coffee was not having the desired effect. Tosh was monitoring UNIT communications, and Gwen was out investigating a supposed anomaly at the shopping center out of town. She had gone off with Rhys, her husband, but Jack was suspecting it might be covering a shopping trip. He told himself not to be so uncharitable. It wasn’t as if there was any major rift activity, and non predicted for a few days either, so he started pacing again. He hated it when Mycroft Holmes bested him. The bloody man was a law unto himself. Commander in Chief indeed. Jack was contemplating a practice session in the shooting range, planning to print off a copy of Mycroft Holmes’ face to use as a target, when Ianto popped his head in and said, “There’s been a call.”

“Who from?”

“Owen, he says to tell you something’s happening at Baskerville. Apparently the Doctor has arrived…”

“ _The_ Doctor? The Doctor is here?” Jack could not believe his ears. _How?_

“Yes, sir. Well, at Baskerville, to be precise.” 

“Damn it all, I have to go there now…Tosh, Ianto, grab your stuff, we’re going out. Extended stay, grab your bug-out bags and let’s go.”

“What about Gwen?”

“Text her. I’m not waiting. She can look after things until we get back.” 

“ETA 2.5 hours, sir.” Ianto checked his watch. “We should be there just after lunch.”

“How do you know where the Baskerville Research Facility is? It’s a closely guarded MOD secret.”

“I know everything, sir. I thought you knew that?” Ianto lead the way out of the cog door and turned back just as Jack came up behind him. “Besides,” he added, “they’re about as secret as we are. All the locals know where it is.”

**000000000000**

They were sitting in Eva’s room, the four of them around the table. She was back to looking fearful, now Greg could understand her perfectly. While some part of her was grateful she could now understand Greg and Mycroft, there would be no more hiding behind the language barrier. She would have to tell them everything. The man who now sat across from her also looked as though he meant business. 

“So, Eva,” The Doctor said carefully. “You are a scientist, and you were sent to colonize this world.”

“Yes. We had a virus on board. You must understand, we were sent by our people, and we thought it was right…We are in a remote area of space. We have colonised other worlds in our solar system, but we have had little alien contact. Deliberately. It is not encouraged. We know there are others out there, but...There was a transmission, you see. The sounds you are playing to Cane.”

“It’s called music here,” Greg said. “I notice you never refer to it as music. You call it _the transmission_ or _the sounds_. You don’t understand the concept?”

“No, we have nothing like it, but it was deemed irrelevant. Nobody bothered to study it. All they were interested in was where it came from.”

“So, Cane is...your brother?” The Doctor asked.

“No, companion. Colleague,” she said, dragging her attention away from Greg. “We were hand picked for this mission for our compatibility and skills. We are...were telepaths. Cane and I are each part of twins. Well, Cane was. His sister died…” She went on to explain about the Hive, their collective, and working together, “for the good of us all. For the Good of Sul.”

“Sul is your homeworld,” The Doctor stated. 

Eva nodded. “We are...not connected anymore. I...I no longer hear my brother. I c.c.cut it out…” She looked stricken, close to tears. Again, the green glowing device was in the Doctor’s hand, and he wafted it at Eva where she sat shivering in her chair. He peered at it and nodded.

“A choice, yes?”

“Yes, I was not coerced. Nor was Cane. He lost his connection with his twin sister. She died in childbirth, trying to give life to her babies. Four of them. So few. Apparently it is a family trait, according to Cane.”

“Four is few to you?” Greg asked. “Commonly we have only one at once. Twins are not common, but three or more are rare.”

“Six is not uncommon. Eight or nine desired, but...our world is dying. It has been for generations. My forebears colonized other planets in our system, but they all rely on the same sun, and that is dying. We tried terraforming with the idea of moving to a planet closer to the sun, but…it was not successful. My father successfully lead the expedition to colonize a binary system. I am from a exceptional lineage of scientists and explorers. This was to be our furthest outpost, well beyond our normal range. They informed us that they could not tell us everything about the world we were going to…They did not have enough data.”

“So what happened?”

“Cane was always thinking, playing the transmission. He asked me what I supposed the new world to be like, but I told him we did not know enough about it to speculate. He...We have nothing like that sound on Sul. It...it disturbed me. We did not understand its purpose. He was obsessed with it, questioning it, wondering why we did not study it. He worked out that it’s value seems to lie in the harmonics, but what purpose does it serve?”

“Creative expression,” Greg supplied. Eva looked completely blank. “Do you not create anything?” Greg asked. “Nothing artistic? At all?”

“Artistry is in equations, new molecules, engineering, architecture. There is no other equivalent. We work together, improve our skills, for the good of Sul, for the good of us all.”

“And that’s it?”

“We need nothing else. We are not individuals, we are hive. Only Cane was having solitary thoughts, individual thoughts.” 

“And that goes against your entire culture, doesn’t it?" The Doctor said. “You’re insect-like,” The Doctor suggested. “A group consciousness. Working toward one goal. It works, actually. Not the best community model in existence but it works. Occasionally an individual realises there is more the life and escapes, but collectively, hive minds can be successful.”

“Bees,” Mycroft said. “My brother would appreciate that.”

“Ah yes, and how is Sherlock?”

“Irritating, as always.”

“I can imagine,” The Doctor said, as if with prior experience. “Now there’s a young man could teach you a thing or two about creative expression.”

Greg could not help the laugh that escaped. The Doctor grinned back. “Now there speaks the voice of experience,” Greg observed. He glanced at Eva. She looked thoroughly miserable. “Hey,” he said, gently. “Don’t look like that. Things will get better, promise.”

"What is that? _Promise?_ "

"A promise is...well, when someone says something they intend to do, or to make happen," Greg tried to explain. 

"So you tell me you will make things better for me? That things will get better because you intend to make that happen?"

"Yes, if I can, but we can say 'promise' to mean that we're sure something will happen without our intervention. Like I'm sure things will improve for you." Eva nodded, but her expression remained uncertain.

“So, what happened next?” Mycroft prompted. Haltingly, she told them of Cane’s increasing breakdown, the loss of his sister, his disconnection with their home and his belief that he was no longer one of them. The resulting pressure that lay with her to complete the mission on her own...Greg could only imagine. On a ship in the vastness of space, her only companion starting to lose it…

“Cane tried to end his life.” 

Greg knew he made an inarticulate noise somewhere between shock and sympathy. “How?” He asked, his voice gruff.

“He crafted a rope. I awoke to his name in my mind...I f.f.found him...hanging. I thought he was dead…” Eva could not continue. She laid her head on her arms and wept, completely lost. Greg did the same thing that he had done at the hospital. He reached over and laid the flat of his hand between her shoulders and rubbed soothing circles on her back. Mycroft spared him a glance. He could see Greg was empathising heavily, but her feelings were obviously genuine, although it looked hard for her, difficult, as though she wasn’t used to such powerful emotion.

“The woman I killed…”

“You didn’t, as it turns out,” Greg offered. “She survived.”

“You stabbed her in the chest, and while it punctured her lung, it didn’t kill her,” Mycroft said. “You are not blameless, but you are not a murderer.”

“She fought me, and I...I had no idea what to do. They said it would be simple. That the life forms must be dull and stupid, backward...They were wrong!” she spat bitterly. “Just because they had no connection of minds, does not mean that I did not see the connections they had made; touch, speech, eye contact. But I needed their DNA to sequence the virus we had been ordered to release. They did not tell us…” she looked up at Greg, “...how like us you really are.”

“Well, we’re not telepaths,” Greg said.

“And we don’t live in a collective. As a rule,” Mycroft amended. 

“But you humans, you’re fantastic,” The Doctor said, enthusiastically. “Not being telepathic would be looked upon as something of a disability by some races, but you, no, you just keep calm and carry on,” he quoted. “You work around that, not being able to tell at once if someone is lying, or not who they say they are…”

“Can’t miss what you’ve never had,” Greg said. “It’s difficult sometimes, won’t say it’s not, and I am a policeman so I should know, but we manage. It’s what we do.”

“So why come here?” The Doctor asked Eva. “Do your Leaders not know that this planet is under protection of the Shadow Proclamation?”

“They do not recognise that authority. They do not recognise any authority save their own.”

“You no longer feel part of them, do you?” Mycroft observed. “You said ‘they’ not ‘we’.”

Eva hung her head. “I am part of nothing. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to belong. Cane and I, we are nothing…”

“Eva, you are not nothing,” Greg said firmly. “You disobeyed your people and you saved an entire world. My world, _me_ , and Mycroft, and everybody here. That is not nothing.”

“I will never be able to return to Sul, I will never see my brother again, I have disgraced my family, and he will suffer for it...I am less than nothing, I am a betrayer, I am a killer...I have murdered hundreds…” 

“Eva, how?” Greg asked.

“The ship was carrying embryos, hundreds of embryos of our race, and we murdered them all.” 

“Embryos?” 

“What did you think we were going to colonize with?” Eva said sharply. “Did you think the two of us were going to manage an invasion on our own?”

Horror crossed Greg’s features. It had not occurred to him that their ship was a colony ship, that they would be carrying...children… 

“Eva,” Mycroft said, patiently, although his eyes were on Greg. She looked up at him, fear and anger and self loathing burning in her dark eyes. “Sometimes we have to make difficult choices. In the course of my job, I am sometimes tasked with making life and death decisions.” He slid his gaze over from Greg to Eva. “Sometimes those decisions might mean the deaths of hundreds. I will _never_ find making those decisions easy, and I hope I never do. The only way I can feel even remotely at ease with it is the fact that I choose the most ethical option. If I choose to let hundreds die, it will be in exchange for the lives of billions. Still, some have to perish. A necessary sacrifice, if you will. Collateral damage, we call it. Believe me, I work towards a minimum of that, but sometimes it is not possible to avoid.” He did not look away from her. “Every decision I make, I base upon decades of training and experience, years of seeing the connections between events and understanding completely the ramifications of my choices. You are much younger than I and you lack that fundamental experience to allow you to understand the implications. Do you understand me?” She nodded. “Given that, and given that you made an ethical choice based upon your understanding of right and wrong, you are not a monster. A monster would be someone who could let billions die in favour of a few hundred. A monster would be someone who could feel nothing in doing so. A monster would have already let that virus free.”

“He’s right,” The Doctor added. “I wish there had been another choice, but as you say, you had to contain the virus and the only way was to shut down your ship. Shut down the ship, shut off life support…”

“I couldn’t think of what else to do,” Eva said, desperately. “Cane and I...we are exiles now. Probably we have committed crimes against your people too.”

“I think, under the circumstances, anything like that will have to wait. Indefinitely,” Mycroft replied. “First we have to decide what to do with you both…”

**000000000000**

His head was aching. Cane catalogued his body carefully, noting the nuances of pain and ache and throb… Pressure behind the eyes, a dull ache at the back of his neck, muscular aches all over, and thin stabbing pains, like being stabbed with pins. His joints pained him. His eyes felt too heavy to open. Some attachment to his hand, which he peered at distractedly wondering at its purpose. A tube lead away from it. He wondered what was being drained away. There were discs stuck to his chest, among the hair. Wires lead away from them. There was beeping in his ears, three different tones. It lacked the harmony of... _ah, the sound...familiar_. He could hear the recording, its harmony soothing him. 

“Cease play…” he ordered gently, but the music carried on. “Cease playback.” Nothing happened. He could hear a voice over the music, but he ignored it and lapsed back into sleep, soothed by the melody. 

“Really thought he was coming back to us there,” Owen said, disappointed.

“Probably put him to sleep again,” Mycroft muttered. “I dislike Beethoven.” He looked at Eva. They were taking a break from discussion with The Doctor, and had come to see how Cane was progressing. “Is that the only sound you know from here?”

She nodded. “It’s all that we received.”

“Let me try something else then, something a little more modern.” He tapped the keys of the laptop, and hit ‘return’. As the strains of Einaudi’s Primavera floated through the air, Eva turned to stare at him, eyes wide. “Believe me, Eva, humans have lived here for thousands of years, and their creativity knows no bounds. This is a tiny part of the whole.”

“This is...We have _nothing_ like this, _nothing_ …”

As they watched, Cane’s eyes flickered open and he stared, unfocused, an expression of rapt and utter joy on his face. “I knew…” he murmured. “I knew that couldn’t be the only transmission…” His eyes slid shut again, tears forcing their way past his eyelids, glistening over his cheeks. Despite the emotion, his fingers twitched on the sheets, tapping in rhythm. “I knew, I knew, I _knew_ …” he repeated.

Owen came over and presented a paper mask to Eva. “Here. Put this over your mouth and nose. Like this, let me help. It’s precaution only. Go on, you can go see him.” 

Eva stepped closer, noticing Cane was lost to the harmonies. _This_ , she thought, _will heal him more than anything else, a vindication almost_. The music changed, Divenire replacing Primavera, but she did not know the names. The waterfall of sound seemed to soak into her very soul. She reached out, twined her fingers in his. His eyes opened, focused on her, and he smiled. _I hardly know him,_ she thought. In so much time, they had never truly connected. She had connected more with Greg in the last forty eight hours, a kind man who wasn’t a telepath, than she had done with Cane, one of her own, in the entire voyage. She had shut herself off from him, _a higher status, self-absorbed, dutiful drone,_ she thought. _Their mission had been the only priority, the driving force._ Le Onde replaced Divenire, and Mycroft watched the man’s gradual return to life. He turned to The Doctor. He was very carefully watching the scene unfold before him.

“You humans,” he said, fondly. “Your music is a very powerful thing.”

“I know. It lends me peace when often there is none to be found elsewhere.”

“Creative, you lot. You’ll be exploring the stars soon, jetting off who knows where. That music will one day help you communicate with lots of other races. You’ve always been explorers, though, even when you didn’t know what was over your own horizon. Took your music with you then, too. Always eager to fling yourselves into the unknown, be it a ship on the sea or a ship in the star fields…”

“Speaking of the unknown,” Mycroft murmured. “Where do they come from?”

“Sul, homeworld of the collective Hives of the Ora’an peoples. It’s a long way from here, but they’ve developed rudimentary FTL, faster than light drive. Their colony is in a mess, their homeworld is next to barren, and they’ve colonised other worlds near them to the detriment of other populations before and been warned off by the Shadow Proclamation twice already. They’re in a largely uncharted part of the universe, their telepathy has kept them almost invisible, and warded off the most inquisitive explorers. They’re very isolationist, considering how much trouble their race is in. I’ll send a message the Shadow Proclamation, let them know what the Ora’an are doing. I very much doubt they’ll be doing it again if the Proclamation have their way. We are in a position to help, but they’re stubborn. The failure of this mission might just be the catalyst to them allowing somebody else to help them. This is probably the third time they've tried it, but who knows?”

“Will they be censured?”

“Highly likely. The Proclamation will make sure they don’t step out of line again. If they refuse help, then on their own heads be it. The Proclamation do not take prisoners if they’re opposed.” He paused, thoughtful. “If you want, I can take these two back with me, but my scans seem to reveal that they’ve both removed the node that allows them to communicate telepathically. That might be a problem and I very much doubt they’d be well received if they did return. I’d be interested to know why they did it.” 

“There’s time to find out,” Mycroft said, gently. “I, too, highly doubt that they would be received very well by their own people. If that ship was carrying embryos, technically they have killed their own people.”

“You’re proposing they stay here?”

“That remains to be seen. Could you take them somewhere?”

“Problematic, seeing as how they don’t speak any languages than their own.”

“Well, I expect them to have a say in this…Oh, what now?” His phone was buzzing. “Do excuse me.” Mycroft slid a thumb across the screen and lifted the phone to his ear. “Major Barrymore, what seems to be the problem?”


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A filler while I catch up on life, the Universe and Everything. Just an update to push things along really...

Jack stopped the car as they were flagged down on the approach to the gate outside the Baskerville base. Uniformed men asked for ID and Jack produced something that looked official.

“Torchwood?” The man said.

“Look, please just contact Mycroft Holmes, I know he’s here and he promised me access…”

“Just a moment, sir.” The man disappeared into the hut by the gate and they could see him lift a phone.

“This might take a while,” Ianto murmured. “I’m calling Owen. He could come meet us.”

“Not actually a bad idea,” Jack agreed, peering around him. “Jesus, this looks like something out of a bad science fiction B movie.” 

“Forbidden planet?”

“That sounds more like a porn movie.” 

“Only you, Jack,” Ianto sighed. “Only you... Owen, hi. We’re at the main gate, any chance of you meeting us?”

000000000000000

Owen’s phone rang as Mycroft was in conversation with Major Barrimore. He listened to Ianto asking if they could be met at the gate, and glanced over to where Mycroft was obviously talking about the same thing. 

“I think Mr Scary is making the arrangements, so just hang fire and see what happens.”

“Mr Scary?”

“Mycroft Holmes.”

“Ah, right. As long as someone allows us in before Jack combusts with frustration…”

“We’ll do our best, Tea Boy.” Owen chuckled. “If our glorious leader combusts it’ll ruin the upholstery.”

“It would seem,” Mycroft said, after ending the call, “that Torchwood have arrived.”

“Ah,” The Doctor said. “Torchwood. Is Jack with them?”

“He is, I believe,” Mycroft replied.

“That was Ianto,” Owen said, indicating his own phone. “Apparently they’re at the gates.”

“So it would appear. I have instructed them to allow entry. God knows what would happen if I went back on my offer now.”

“Yeah, well, you did promise.”

“I had best go and welcome them. Make sure they don’t stray too far.”

“I’ll come with you. Eva can stay with Cane for a while. Doctor? You want to stay or come say hi to Jack?”

“I think you should fetch him down here. I’ll stay here, thank you.” Nobody questioned the Doctor’s reluctance because time was of the essence in case Jack started getting impatient. They all knew how that would go down. 

“We’d better hurry,” Owen muttered. “I know what Jack’s like when he’s kept waiting.”

“I never hurry, Doctor Harper.” Mycroft admitted. “I hasten.”

“Bollocks,” Owen replied, grinning. “That’s a poncy way of saying you hurry.”

“I fear you and Gregory should get on famously. He is fond of that particular expletive.”

“Because it’s perfect.”

“Quite.”

Greg was sitting in his room when Eva appeared, looking tired. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yes, I...I am glad Cane is awake and he seems well...but…”

“But?”

“All he wants to do is listen to your music. He cannot focus his thoughts.”

“He’s been ill, Eva. Sick people have trouble focusing sometimes.”

“I worry about him.”

“Not a surprise either. You are comrades, colleagues, compatriots...Look, hard as it is to believe, you are with friends.” Greg sighed. “I don’t know how to better explain it. You have two agencies here working to keep you safe. Although, don’t expect them not to want you to tell them everything about where you come from. For our...for Earth’s security.” 

“I understand, and we owe you our lives. Cane almost died, didn’t he?”

“Possibly. It’s hard but...you should be safe here. What happens next, well, that I am not sure.”

“They will send us away.”

“Now that I am not sure of.”

“This Doctor, he has a ship. He can take us away.”

“Possibly, but do you want to leave? Would you want to go home?” 

Eva shuddered and shook her head. “We would be…” Again the shudder of revulsion. “Re-educated,” she said, softly. “When Hive folk...think differently, when they lose their way… They are…” she paused, having difficulty in finding the words. “The Education Center is the way forward for those who lose sight of our goals.” It sounded as though she were reciting something.

“What happens there?”

“Honestly, I am not sure. Re-programming? Resistance to the laws of our people is not met with sympathy or patience. We have no prisons, just re-education. Sometimes, we do not see people who go there again.”

“Then doubtless it would not be advisable to return you there.” 

“It would not.”

“So, I’m sure we’ll find a solution.” He smiled encouragingly.

“Would you come and speak to Cane?”

“Me? Won’t he be a bit freaked out by how similar we look?”

“I have told him, and I have also explained that it is not something that your people have done, rather a natural occurrence. He is a scientist at heart, and is curious to meet with you.”

“Oh, okay. Well, in that case…”

“Cane, this is Greg,” Eva went in to the room in front of Greg and smiled encouragingly at the man in the bed. The radio was playing Classic FM in the background and Cane’s eyes were closed, but he was listening, rather than asleep. Greg turned the sound down a little and Cane opened his eyes and looked at them, listlessly. He was obviously still feeling weak in aftermath of the disease, but his eyes were focused.

“Um...hello there,” Greg said, gently, stepping around Eva and viewing his lookalike warily. 

Cane’s expression changed to one of surprise and then interest. “How is this possible?” he rasped, trying to sit forward. “Eva tells me you came with the one in charge, she met you at the hospital.”

“She did, yes. As to how, I really don’t know. Genetics? I have no idea,” Greg grinned and came closer, sitting on the bed edge. “You okay with this though?”

“I...we are...identical, as though we were twins…”

“Well, how old are you?”

“I am in my fifty fourth year since birth.”

“Me too.”

“That is….” 

“Impossible to explain, I know.” 

“Maybe not,” said a voice behind them and The Doctor appeared in the door. 

“How would you explain it then?” Greg asked, “bearing in mind that I am a mere mortal and I have no idea what all the long words may mean.”

The Doctor paused and then nodded. “Alright then, I’ll try to keep it simple. Words of one syllable then?”

“Well, maybe two or three but watch the complicated definitions.”

“Right then, well, genetics may play a part, as you can see, but there’s also the factor of human DNA. I know for a fact it’s been collected and studied for thousands of years. You have been visited before, you know, by various peoples. Some were very careful not to reveal themselves, and some were not so careful. Some were scientists, some were out for exploitation. Since they first visited, some races have died out, others have realised they cannot interfere. That’s where the Shadow Proclamation came from, to protect less advanced races from being exploited.”

“The Prime Directive.” Greg smiled. “It’s from a science fiction story,” he explained. “The Prime Directive is the rule that nobody can interfere with the development of a population of a planet that hadn’t developed warp drive technology. Um...faster than light space travel?”

“Yes, kind of. I see your point. You are a class five planet, you have developed space flight but not deep space travel, and certainly not FTL.” The Doctor smiled. “There is plenty of evidence you’ve been visited before. I’ve managed to stop one or two visits myself. Your Native American peoples have the Great Star Nation in their legends. They were visited by people like themselves, but very advanced. Lots of native cultures have pictures of other worldly beings. Some are real, some imagined, some are treated like Gods. Doubtless some have been the inspiration for religion, but the fact remains, you have been visited before many times.”

“Crop circles,” Greg suggested. “Some people thought crop circles were made by aliens.”

“Crop circles were made by...well, your equivalent would be joy riding teenagers. They’re young Atribardese, and they’re idiots. They thought that flying their fastest ships low and making stupid patterns in your crops with their thrusters to confuse you all would be a fun thing to do. Don’t worry, they’ve been stopped by their parents. They’ve been reprimanded, and they won’t do it again, I hope. Grounded, all of them.” Greg realised he had begun to stare. “At least the Atribardese didn’t mean any harm. Others have been somewhat less...kind.” 

“How do you mean?”

“Using human DNA to seed other planets, for their own use.”

“In what way, their own use?” 

“Oh, don’t worry, happened thousands of your years ago. You have had your DNA harvested by everyone from dying races to creatures who wanted slaves, but…” he turned to Cane and Eva, “your people were prepared to destroy your own relatives, I hope you realise that.”

“I think we do.” Cane seemed oddly calm. “I realised there was something they were not telling us.” 

“Maybe they didn’t know, but either way, your people were planning to colonise a planet that your DNA originally came from.”

Eva’s face crumpled in anguish. “We cannot go back, please, do not make us…”

Worry flashed across Cane’s face at her words. The thought had not occured that they may be forced to leave, to return to face their Hives’ censure and rebuke and… Cane shuddered. They would be forced into reprogramming, and that was… unpleasant. 

“Hey, take it easy there,” Greg said, sitting down on the bed and taking the man’s hand in his. Cane looked at their joined hands a little warily. “It’s going to be fine,” Greg said. “We’ll work something out. I will oppose you being sent anywhere, never mind back home.”

“How can we trust you?” Eva sounded panicked.

The Doctor looked at them both for a moment, assessing. “I for one shall not take you back, not unless you wish to go. However, if you stay here, assuming they let you, you will have to learn a lot of new things. Languages, dress, customs, history, legends, religions, behaviour…It’s a lot to assimilate.”

“We can teach you.” Greg was eager to place them both at ease.

“Mycroft might not want to. He may not trust these two yet. After all, if they are lying, and they are heading an invasion…”

“Do you believe that?”

“No, I don’t, but that’s not the point. It’s what Mycroft Holmes thinks that counts. After all, he is head of UNIT, and Torchwood, these days. Oh, I miss Alistair…” The Doctor sounded wistful.

“Alistair?”

“Oh, Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, Brigadier in charge of UNIT back in the nineteen seventies on earth. Good man. Kate Stewart is his granddaughter.”

“The scientist Mycroft mentioned?”

“The same.” 

“So you knew her grandfather? You must have been young…”

“I think you haven’t understood how this works, Greg. I’m The Doctor, I’m a Timelord from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous, I’m 909 years old and I’ve been through ten regenerations to get here.”

“How old? And what the Hell are regenerations?”

“909, and don’t jump to conclusions. I am not immortal. We regenerate, into a different body, every time we suffer fatal injury or illness. I can come back, but I change, that’s why Mycroft didn’t recognise this face.” 

“You…” Greg paused. “You’re….” He blinked. “Nope,” he said, eloquently. “I think I need a stiff drink or three before I even begin to process that. It’s no stranger than anything else that’s happened in the last 48 hours but...honestly, I am not sure I even believe _me_ anymore.” The Doctor was smiling. 

“Gregory...It’s odd for me too, you know? I’ve sat around a campfire in the African desert with your great grandfather. We fought dinosaurs, you know, on a spaceship… Quite the character, your ancestor. I can see a lot of him in you. Hope you’re not as reckless…”

“Reckless? I’m a policeman.”

“Those two things are not necessarily mutually exclusive, you know?”

“Well, I’m too old to be reckless now.”

“He was fifty two when I knew him…You Riddells, you’re...reckless, and you’re rogues, the lot of you.”

“Thanks a lot, Doctor,” Greg said, grinning. “Besides, I’m a Lestrade, not a Riddell.”

“Oh, believe me, you’re a Riddell alright. British through and through...Talking of which, do you have any tea?”

“Tea?”

“Yes, tea. I’m parched. I bet these two could do with something too.”

“Is this a hint to leave them alone for a while?”

“Possibly.”

“Okay then, follow me. And for your information," Greg added, "I am a quarter French…”

“French, hm…Interesting. So is Mycroft, you know. Oh, I could tell you some stories...”

“Come on, let’s go fetch some tea and you can tell me all about him. You seem to know him of old.”

“Of old? Yes, yes, I do. We...um...we travelled together for a time. Not as long as some of my companions but… Where Mycroft is concerned, it was memorable, nevertheless.”

“I’ll bet. Where is he, anyhow? Should have got back long ago.”

“DOCTOR!” Both men turned to see a rather irate Jack Harkness striding toward them, flanked by Owen and Mycroft. Greg frowned. Mycroft looked somewhat irritated. 

“Oh, dear," The Doctor murmured sadly. "There goes my teatime…” 


	5. Clouding the Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cane and Greg meet, Jack gets annoyed and things go a bit pear-shaped...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since updating. I'm free to write for a while so I'm making the most of it. Here goes.

Jack stopped the car as they were flagged down on the approach to the gate outside the Baskerville base. Uniformed men asked for ID and Jack produced something that looked official.

“Torchwood?” The man said. He sounded as though it wasn’t familiar. 

“Yes. Look, just contact Mycroft Holmes. I know he’s here and he promised me access. The name is Harkness, Jack Harkness.”

“Just a moment, sir.” The man disappeared into the hut by the gate and they could see him lift a phone.

“This might take a while,” Ianto murmured. “I’m calling Owen. He could come meet us.”

“Not actually a bad idea,” Jack agreed, peering around him. “Jesus, this looks like something out of a bad science fiction B movie.” 

“Forbidden planet?”

“That sounds more like a porn movie.” 

“Only you, Jack,” Ianto sighed. “Only you... Owen, hi. We’re at the main gate. Any chance of you meeting us, guiding us in, making sure Jack isn’t arrested for indecency...?”

“Oi!”

**000000000**

Owen’s phone rang as Mycroft was in conversation with Major Barrimore. Owen listened to Ianto asking if they could be met at the gate, and glanced over to where Mycroft was obviously talking about the same thing. 

“I think Mr Scary is making the arrangements, so just hang fire and see what happens.”

“Mr Scary?”

“Mycroft Holmes.”

“Ah, right. Well, just as long as someone allows us in before Jack combusts with frustration…”

“We’ll do our best, Tea Boy.” Owen chuckled. “If our glorious leader combusts it’ll ruin the upholstery.”

“And you know exactly who will be cleaning that up, don’t you?” Ianto sighed. “Do me a favour and hurry?” 

**000000000**

“It would seem,” Mycroft said, after ending the call, “that Torchwood have arrived.”

“Ah,” The Doctor said. “Torchwood. Is Jack with them?”

“He is, I believe,” Mycroft replied.

“That was Ianto,” Owen said, indicating his own phone. “Apparently they’re at the gates.”

“So it would appear. I have instructed them to allow entry. God knows what would happen if I went back on my offer now.”

“Yeah, well, you did promise.”

“I had best go and welcome them,” Mycroft murmured. “Make sure they don’t stray too far.”

“I’ll come with you,” Owen said. “Eva can stay with Cane for a while. Doctor? You want to stay or come say hi to Jack?”

“I think you should fetch him down here. I’ll stay here, thank you.” Nobody questioned the Doctor’s reluctance because time was of the essence. 

“We’d better hurry,” Owen muttered. “I know what Jack’s like when he’s kept waiting.”

“I never hurry, Doctor Harper.” Mycroft admitted. “I hasten.”

“Bollocks,” Owen replied, grinning. “That’s a poncy way of saying you hurry.”

“I fear you and Gregory should get on famously. He is fond of that particular expletive.”

“Because it’s perfect.”

“Quite.”

**00000000000**

Greg was sitting in his room when Eva appeared, looking tired. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yes, I...I am glad Cane is awake and he seems better...but…”

“But?”

“All he wants to do is listen to your music. He cannot focus his thoughts, much less focus them on anything else.”

“He’s been ill, Eva. Sick people have trouble focusing sometimes.”

“I worry about him.”

“Not a surprise either. You are comrades, colleagues. Partners?”

She shook her head. “Not in the way you imply. We are… comrades. I was not successful in securing his interest in…other ways.” She looked away. 

“Look, hard as it is to believe, you _are_ with friends.” Greg sighed. “I don’t know how to better explain it. You have two agencies here working to keep you safe. Although, don’t expect them not to want you to tell them everything about where you come from. For our...for Earth’s security.” 

“I understand, and we owe you our lives. Cane almost died, didn’t he?”

“Possibly. It’s hard but...you should be safe here. What happens next, well, that I am not sure.”

“They will send us away.”

“Now that I cannot tell you, but if you don’t want to go, I’ll speak to Mycroft on your behalf.”

“You are kind, Greg, but this Doctor, he has a ship. He is able to take us away.”

“Possibly, but do you want to leave? Would you want to go home?” 

Eva shuddered and shook her head. “We would be…” Again the shudder of revulsion. “Re-educated,” she said, softly. “When Hive folk...think differently, when they lose their way… They are…” she paused, having difficulty in finding the words. “The Education Center is the way forward for those who lose sight of our goals.” It sounded as though she were reciting something. “Personally, if Cane had not passed the tests to join me on this mission, I fear he would have ended by being placed there. He was far too engaged by the transmission…”

“So what happens there, in The Education Center?”

“Honestly, I am not sure. Re-programming? Resistance to the laws of our people is not met with sympathy or patience. We have no prisons, just re-education. Sometimes, we do not see people who go there again. If we do, then they are...changed. They are serene and calm and focussed once more, but I am not always of the mind that it is a good thing.”

“Then doubtless it would not be advisable to return you there.” 

“It would not.”

“So, I’m sure we’ll find a solution.” He smiled encouragingly.

“Would you come and speak to Cane?”

“Me? Won’t he be a bit freaked out by how similar we look?”

“I have told him, and I have also explained that it is not something that your people have done, rather a natural occurrence. He is a scientist at heart, and is curious to meet with you.”

“Oh, okay. Well, in that case…”

**00000000000**

“Cane, this is Greg,” Eva went in to the room in front of Greg and smiled encouragingly at the man in the bed. The radio was playing Classic FM in the background and Cane’s eyes were closed, but he was listening, rather than asleep. Greg turned the sound down a little and Cane opened his eyes and looked at them, listlessly. He was obviously still feeling weak in aftermath of the disease, but his eyes were focused.

“Um...hello there,” Greg said, gently, stepping around Eva and viewing his lookalike warily. 

Cane’s expression changed to one of surprise and then interest. “How is this possible?” he rasped. “Eva tells me you came with the one in charge, she met you at the hospital.”

“She did, yes. As to how, I really don’t know. Genetics? I have no idea,” Greg grinned and came closer. “You okay with this though?”

“I...we are...identical, as though we were twins…”

“Well, how old are you?”

“I am in my fifty fourth year since birth.”

“Me too.”

“That is….” 

“Impossible to explain, I know.” 

“Maybe not,” said a voice behind them and The Doctor appeared in the door. 

“How would you explain it then?” Greg asked, “bearing in mind we are mere mortals and have no idea what all the long words may mean.”

The Doctor paused, smiled, and then nodded. “Alright then, I’ll try to keep it simple. Words of one syllable then?”

“Well, maybe two or three but you might have to explain any complicated definitions.”

“Right then, well, genetics may play a part, as you can see, but there’s also the factor of human DNA. I know for a fact it’s been collected and studied for thousands of years. You have been visited before, you know, by various peoples. Some were very careful not to reveal themselves, and some were not so careful. Some were scientists, some were out for exploitation. Since they first visited, some races have died out, others have realised they cannot interfere. That’s where the Shadow Proclamation came from, to protect less advanced races from being exploited.”

“Good grief, the Prime Directive.” Greg smiled. “It’s from one of our science fiction stories,” he explained. “The Prime Directive is the rule that nobody can interfere with the development of a population of a planet that hasn’t developed warp drive technology. Um...faster than light space travel?”

“Yes, kind of. I see your point. You are a class five planet, you have developed space flight but not space travel.” The Doctor smiled. “There is plenty of evidence you’ve been visited before. I’ve managed to stop one or two visits myself. The Native American peoples have the Great Star Nation in their legends. They were visited by people like themselves, but very advanced. Lots of native cultures have pictures of other worldly beings. Some are real, some imagined, but the fact remains, you have been visited before many times.”

“Crop circles,” Greg suggested. “Some people thought crop circles were made by aliens.”

“Crop circles were made by...well, your equivalent would be joy riding teenagers I suppose,” The Doctor said glumly. “They’re young Atribardese, and they’re idiots. They thought that flying their fastest ships low and making stupid patterns in your crops with their thrusters to confuse you all would be a fun thing to do. Don’t worry, they’ve been stopped by their parents. They’ve been reprimanded, and they won’t do it again, I hope. Grounded, all of them.” Greg realised he had begun to stare. “At least the Atribardese didn’t mean any harm. Others have been somewhat less… kind.” 

“There’s the equivalent of joy riding in space…” Greg shook his head. “How do you mean, _less kind_?”

“Using human DNA to seed other planets, for their own use.”

“In what way, their own use?” 

“Oh, don’t worry, happened thousands of your years ago. You have had your DNA harvested by everyone from dying races to creatures who wanted slaves, but…” he turned to Cane and Eva, “your people were prepared to destroy your own relatives, I hope you realise that.”

“I think we do.” Cane seemed oddly calm. “I realised there was something they were not telling us.” 

“Maybe they didn’t know, but either way, your people were planning to colonise a planet that your DNA originally came from.”

Eva’s face crumpled in anguish. “We cannot go back, please, do not make us…”

Worry flashed across Cane’s face at her words. The thought had not occured that they may be forced to leave, to return to face their Hives’ censure and rebuke and… Cane shuddered. They would be forced into reprogramming, _and that is… unpleasant_ , he thought, a chill running through him. Oddly, he did not want that fate for Eva and wondered at himself, considering he had not been able to form a bond with her while they were travelling.

“Hey, take it easy there,” Greg said, sitting down on the bed and taking the man’s hand in his. Cane looked at their joined hands a little warily. “It’s going to be fine,” Greg said. “We’ll work something out. I am sure you won’t be sent back.” 

“We cannot know that…” Eva sounded panicked. The Doctor looked at them both for a moment, assessing.

“I for one shall not take you back, not unless you wish to go, and I am the only one capable of that around here. However, if you stay here, assuming they let you, you will have to learn a lot of new things. Languages, dress, customs, history, legends, religions, behaviour…It’s a lot to assimilate. There are places I can take you to start a new life but it won’t necessarily be easy.”

“We could teach you.” Greg was eager to place them both at ease, to make them welcome.

“Take care, Greg. Mycroft might not want to,” the Doctor said gently. “I think he may not trust these two yet. After all, if they are lying, and they are heading an invasion…” 

“Do you believe that?” Greg asked. The Doctor frowned slightly, thinking. 

“No, I don’t, but that’s not the point. It’s what Mycroft Holmes thinks that counts. After all, he is head of UNIT, and Torchwood, these days. I do miss Alistair…” The Doctor sounded wistful.

“Alistair?”

“Oh, Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, Brigadier in charge of UNIT back in the seventies on earth. Good man. Kate Stewart is his granddaughter.”

“The scientist Mycroft mentioned?”

“The same.” 

“So you knew her grandfather? You must have been young…”

“I think you haven’t understood how this works, Greg. I’m The Doctor, I’m a Timelord from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous, I’m 909 years old and I’ve been through lots of regenerations to get here.”

“How old? And what the Hell are _regenerations_?”

“909, and don’t jump to conclusions. I am not immortal. We regenerate, into a different body, every time we suffer fatal injury or illness. I can come back, but I change, that’s why Mycroft didn’t recognise this face.” 

“You…” Greg paused. “You’re….” He blinked. “Nope,” he said, eloquently. “I think I need a stiff drink or three before I even begin to process that. It’s no stranger than anything else that’s happened in the last 48 hours but...honestly, I am not sure I even believe _me_ anymore.” The Doctor was smiling. 

“Gregory...It’s odd for me too, you know? I’ve sat around a campfire in the African desert with your great grandfather. We fought dinosaurs, you know, on a spaceship… Quite the character, your ancestor. I can see a lot of him in you. Hope you’re not as reckless…”

“Reckless? I’m a policeman.”

“Those two things are not necessarily mutually exclusive, you know?”

“Well, I’m too old to be reckless now.”

“He was fifty two when I knew him…You Riddells, you’re...reckless, and you’re rogues, the lot of you.”

“Thanks a lot, Doctor,” Greg said, grinning. “Besides, I’m a Lestrade, not a Riddell.”

“Oh, believe me, you’re a Riddell alright. British through and through...Talking of which, do you have any tea?”

“Tea?”

“Yes, tea. I’m parched. I bet these two could do with something too.”

“Is this a hint to leave them alone for a while?”

“Possibly.”

“Okay then, follow me. And for your information, I am a quarter French…”

“French, hm…Interesting. So is Mycroft. Oh, I could tell you some stories...”

“Come on, let’s go fetch some tea and you can tell me all about him. You seem to know him of old.”

“Of old? Yes, yes, I do. We...um...we travelled together for a time. Not as long as some of my companions but… Where Mycroft is concerned, it was memorable, nevertheless.”

“I’ll bet. Where is he, anyhow? Should have got back long ago.”

“DOCTOR!” Both men turned to see a rather irate Jack Harkness striding toward them. 

“Oh dear. There goes my teatime…” The Doctor murmured sadly. 

**00000000000**

“So where the Hell have you been? You said you were coming back. We’ve had Hell to deal with since you last left. I thought you said you loved Earth? Where were you when we needed you? I nearly lost Ianto…” The tirade went on for some time. Jack was on a roll. The Doctor sat sipping tea—Greg had insisted on getting him a cup and removing them from Cane’s room, reconvening in one of the rooms along from Greg’s and Mycroft’s—while Harkness went off on one about his disappearance and how he was never there when they were in bother.

Jack ran out of energy eventually, just as The Doctor had finished his tea. “Well?” he demanded. 

“Well what, Jack? I cannot be here every time, you know that. I cannot hold your hand every time, either. You look as though you’ve done a pretty good job up to now.”

“Good job?” Jack was even more incensed. “Christ, sometimes…”

“Captain Harkness!” Mycroft snapped.

“What?” Jack snapped back.

“Sometimes we have to survive on our own, without The Doctor’s help. You know as well as I do that he cannot always be here.”

“Says the man who can call him anytime about the man who can literally turn up anytime.”

“And yet, I don’t call him anytime.”

“And why don’t you?”

“Because we need to stand on our own feet, Captain. Human invention is fuelled by adversity, and we cannot always be hanging on to apron strings, can we? 

We should not require our metaphorical hand held otherwise we will never learn.”

“Last time was close, too close. I can’t…”

“Captain,” Mycroft said, laying a hand on his arm. Jack looked at the hand and then up at Mycroft, seeing something in the man’s eyes that surprised him. “I, too, have known dire loss. I also wish I could go back and change things. Yet, that is not possible and you know it. We were both companions, once. We both know the rules, hard as those may be sometimes. Some things are fixed points. However, the fact remains, we are here, we survived and we did it without help. Well, without outside help. We just have to accept he comes when he can.” Jack huffed, shoulders tense and hands thrust in his pockets. He glared at mycroft.

“I’m sorry, Jack. Mycroft is right, The Doctor said gently. “You do need to stand on your own feet here. Incidentally, I shouldn’t need to point out that you don’t belong here either. You’re a fixed point, Jack. Giving this planet your help tips the balance too, you know. You are a huge asset, and one that definitely should not exist. When Rose did what she did, she inadvertently created one of earth’s greatest weapons.”

“I am not a weapon.”

“Of course you are, Jack. You could always pull the trigger where I could not. Much as I am The Doctor, even I have to acknowledge the need for force sometimes, detestable as it is.” There was an uneasy silence. Into which, Eva burst in.

“Someone help, please, help me...I cannot find Cane…”

**00000000000**

“What?” Greg was on his feet first. “When did you last see him?”

“I needed to go to the bathroom, and when I returned, his bed was empty. I...nobody has seen him…”

Greg dashed back to the room with her, dimly aware the others were following on their heels. “Eva, what were you talking about?” he asked. 

“A lot of things, chiefly concerning his desire to learn about this planet, but I said Mycroft might not want us to stay… Cane went quiet, and then...well, I thought he was asleep…I needed to use the toilet...”

“Okay, he surely cannot get far. Mycroft?”

“I have sent a text, the alert should go out any moment…” There was a loud klaxon alarm sounded nearby, “...now,” he finished, with an eye roll.

“Great. Now we can’t hear. Mycroft, get them to shut the bloody thing off, issue an alert to people to watch for Cane. An alarm like this, makes him a bloody fugitive, not a refugee.”

“He is a fugitive. If he has absconded inside a secure facility...”

“He’s a troubled man, Mycroft. You won’t help matters if we have to communicate and we’ve got that bloody alarm in our ears…Plus, where can he go, seriously? If this is a _secure_ facility, then how did he manage to _abscond_ in the first place? For God's sake, get them to track him on cctv.”

“Very well…” Mycroft sent off another text and a few seconds later the alarm died but booted feet thudded along the corridor as a detail of men turned up, armed to the teeth with machine guns. “Really, gentlemen, this is not necessary…”

“Sir?” The officer frowned, confused. “Major Barrimore sent us. There’s been communication from UNIT HQ. He asked that you attend. In view of the alarm...”

“Oh, very well. Captain…?” he said, noting the man’s rank.

“Ashforth, sir.”

“Captain Ashforth. Chief Inspector Lestrade here is my liaison and has full security clearance, access all areas. I want you to accompany him on a search for our guest, Cane. One of your men can escort me. Cane seems to have gone walkabout but the threat level is moderate at worst. Security is our prime concern, but the man requires careful handling. Unless his actions directly threaten base security, do not, I repeat, do not mishandle him. Tasers only, do I make myself clear? Then only in emergency.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Ashforth seemed to be waiting further orders and Mycroft turned to Greg.

“Off you go then, but take care. Bring him back in one piece, if you can. I have to go find out what UNIT have to say. Doctor? Care to come?”

“Certainly, Mycroft. Will be nice to chat to Kate again.”

Greg watched them go, accompanied by one of the Captain’s men. Then turned to Eva and Ashforth. “Right then, I have no idea where to begin. Where could he have gone?”

“There are very few ways he could have gone without coming up against security, sir. Up there he would meet a door that requires a pass,” Ashforth said, pointing left. “Down that way, again, he would meet another door…” 

“So where in hell is he?”

“Maybe we should try all the guest quarters, sir.”

“We can, but we were up there less than ten minutes ago. We surely would have passed him.”

“Look, I’ll take Owen and we’ll go left, you take the Captain here and head right,” Jack suggested. “We can cover more ground…”

“You don’t have clearance for the doors, sir,” Ashforth pointed out. “Bradley, go with these men, allow them blue level access.”

“You people with your quaint colour codes…” Jack commented, but he followed after the soldier as the man set off down the corridor.

“What is blue level access?” Greg asked, curious, watching them go.

“Barely above access to the rest rooms, sir.”

“Oh, he won’t like that when he finds out.”

“Frankly, sir, he’ll have to lump it. Mr Holmes doesn’t hand out access all areas lightly, and he gave it to you, not Harkness.”

Greg grinned and followed Ashforth out of the room. 

Twenty minutes later, as they were trying doors along from where Eva and Greg were billetted, the Captain’s radio crackled to life. “Oscar India nine five to Delta Romeo one four, are you receiving? Over?”

Ashforth grabbed his radio and responded quickly. “Delta Romeo one four receiving, Oscar India nine five. Go ahead. Over?”

“We have the subject cornered in Lab 7, B wing. Further instruction required, over.”

“B wing? How in Hell…?” Ashforth shook his head. “Will be there in five. Do not approach. I repeat, do not approach. Stand by. Over?”

“Oscar India nine five standing by, over and out.”

“Come on. He’s found his way to the labs somehow. We need to get him out of there, fast.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please note I am crap at creating a new Language, and possibly have it all wrong but it's fiction. In my defense I am trying to create something half way believable... Apologies if it doesn't work for you. I just hope the plot hangs together.


End file.
